croftmanor

─── older boyfriend .ᐟ LEON KENNEDY who never shaves— he trims the hairs down and a happy trail in grayish blonde grows, (almost) high enough to reach his lower abdomen and soft abs. he jerks off while you’re asleep; thick ropes of spit cling up sticky on his hand and up and down his cock and the squelching noises fill up the bedroom.

─── older boyfriend .ᐟ LEON KENNEDY who stares at you, body facing away from him, with your lips parted so slightly, wearing nothing but a flimsy pair of panties which he eventually pulls to the side while he jerks off — and a tank top, pink, tight and obscenely see through. your soft nipples peek through pretty and leon takes one between his fingers, pinching and naturally, they harden up and his hand wanders, squeezing one of your tits.

─── older boyfriend .ᐟ LEON KENNEDY who kisses your shoulder while pressing two sticky wet fingers on the now slick entrance of your pussy, dragging them up and down, almost sinking them inside you. he takes it slow, his index finger buried by itself, followed by the second, curling up towards your sweet little spot. he feels the insides of your pussy stretching around his fingers and the only think he can imagine is how goddamn good it would feel to bury his cock in you instead; but he’ll wake you up and make sure you adjust nicely.

─── older boyfriend .ᐟ LEON KENNEDY who mutters a fuck under his breath when the tip of his cock parts your cunt open; it oozes with whiteish precum. his head tilts back and a hand rests on your inner thigh, spreading you out wide open. he breathes heavily and his mind turns empty when your pussy swallows him whole — by now, you’re already awake, arm around leon’s neck, moaning his name against his lips. you scream of how much you’ve missed the sex and you beg him to fuck you harder, to get the stress out and use your body freely.

“ah- leon! i wanted to… mmm, i really wanted to wait for you…” you moan as leon keeps slamming his cock deep inside pussy, “i was just too… mmm, i was so sleepy!”

he grunts and cooes sweet words in your ear while he fucks you with no condom, greedy walls stretching out around his throbbing cock, “shhh- don’t worry about it, sweetheart — you’re too goddamn perfect. so perfect waitin’ for me like this.”

making out with older boyfriend! leon kennedy inside his car.

Call me a puritan all you want, bitch, you think to yourself, fisting rapping against the chipped-paint door you’ve ended up face-to face with, I’d rather end up snatched up and dead and growing cold in a basement than to suck some veneer-ruined, trustfund baby’s tiny dick.

Knock, knock, knock.

You stand there awkwardly, rubbing a thumb across the mountains of your knuckles as the door creaks open on its rusted hinges. A warm feverish sweat runs down your back while, out of all people, a middle-aged man steps out, one foot on the threshold, Marlboro—the cheap lights, what hookers and junkies and deadbeats tend to hover towards—hangs off his lips. He’s… not exactly harsh on the eyes, but certainly not pleasing either. He’s hot, you had to admit. In a poverty-stricken, mid-life crisis, divorced dad sort-of way.

Maybe this was fate. Or a mistake. God granted you something better than a fun-sized candy bar in exchange for something much more enticing—not a no-good college boy, but a man. Got scars older than you and the burden of life on his shoulders.

“Huh,” He tugs his jeans up, hanging them off his hips, crossing his arms and peering down at you, scrutinizing and squinted, “aren’t you a little too old to be trick-or-treating?”

“Not you too, everyone says that.” you mutter.

“Well, it’s the truth,” by society's standards, he's technically correct, but you’re not letting him get the benefit of the doubt, “girls your age are more for—what’s-it-called—frat parties, yeah, that’s it, you’re different, and strange as shit.”

“That’s no way to treat a trick-or-treater, mister,” you shift your weight on one leg—seriously, what was this guy’s problem? It’s a simple process, ask and give, then you’re gone. Dissipated into the late October’s fog, out of sight and out of mind for the rest of his miserable spanning lifetime. “I’m only askin’ for one thing, then I’ll be out of your hair—you’ll never see me again.”

“Sorry to disappoint, sweetheart, candy’s way out of my budget this year.” Blondie grins straight and a bit unsettling, serial killer level.

A scoff brushes your glossy lips. “Way to ruin a girl’s night, jackass.”

“Hey, you’re the one who showed up on my doorstep dressed as—“ he gives you a one-over, “the hell are you even supposed to be?”

“Are you serious?” you scoff, waving a hand and pointing from the ears on your head, the little nose you’ve got painted on along with dotted freckles across blush-tinted cheeks, down to the deer-print faux shorts you’ve got shaping your ass.

“Oh,” His eyes blink, one to the other, and it’s like the wires in his brain have reattached when you made the connection for him, “I see, you make the shtick real cute, kid, I’ll give you that, probably a lot prettier on a mount—especially the nicer parts ‘bout you.”

“What?” You cock an eyebrow at him—genuine fucking creep. Honestly, you expected nothing more from a guy like him; head to toe, he was simultaneously the harbinger of bad news and the pinnacle of it. If it’s one thing you were taught as a woman, never trust sleazeballs. Especially not camo-wearing, horrible side-part wearing ones that eye you up and down in poacher fashion. You try gauging his intentions, but it’s hard to tell when he’s looking at you like this—leering at you without an ounce of shame in the world.

“Because you’re a deer and all, trophy hunting—awe, don’t gimme that look, I’m just jokin’ with you,” He takes a drag and tilts his head, trying to ease off his words, “it’s a harmless compliment, baby, no hard feelings.”

“You’re gross!” you turn on your heel with a mutter, crushing speckles of dirt and wandering down the dirt trail before he calls out to you, softer and a hundred percent a lure-in. A missing person’s case bound to happen, next thing you know, your next appearance is gonna be wrapped in plastic, gored up and known as the town’s slut for provoking some poor pent-up soul.

“Now, hold on a second, you’re just makin’ me feel bad here,” His beefy stature hangs off the doorframe, arms crossed against his chest clad in a regularly worn wifebeater, “look, if it makes you feel better, I got candy—actually, no, something better than candy.”

“You seriously sound like a rapist right now.” Right. You doubt any girl would fall for that, and well maybe you would contradict that later ‘cause you’re depraved of a man’s touch. You hate to admit it, but daddy wasn’t there to fill the man-shaped hole in your heart, so you had to set out and find it yourself.

“When I was your age I was hanging past curfew with people twice my age and look how I turned out,” He smirks lopsided and too giddy, way too proud considering how he ended up, “don’t be such a pussy, that’s how you end up a corporate loser working a nine-to-five—so are you gonna stop with this whole ‘good girl’ act or get your ass out there and really live?”

The more you’re in his presence, the more irresistible he becomes to you. And, like, you don’t wanna pass up on a once in a lifetime opportunity; an older guy giving you the attention you’ve been searching to inject into your veins, to pump your heart on? It’s by your nature to give in, Lord help you.

“Oh my god—fine, sure, whatever.” Begrudgingly, you stomp back up his steps, this time taking the bait and home-sweet-home you were.

“That’s a girl,” You hear him say, the slam of the door finalizing your choice, signaling impending doom, “we all got first times for everything.”

And maybe you did end up willingly entering a stranger’s home that night, and maybe you did—despite your own warnings and protests against letting yourself fall victim to such a situation, getting a foot caught in the metal teeth of a set trap—end up sitting on Blondie’s thrifted couch, stinking up your nostrils of wafting cigarettes and some lingering masculine musk, doing nothing to stop his hand from resting on your thigh in a position far from appropriate.

Maybe you just liked it, the attention, you mean. No point in resisting your base needs when it’s waving right in your face, urging you to feed.

“I’m glad you didn’t bail on me,” A lighter rests on his thigh and his free hand picks out a stick from his cancer box. “most women don’t know what they want, but you’re sharp, straight to the point, I like that.”

“I don’t… do that.” you tap your fingers on your knees. “Mister—“

“Leon,” he corrects matter-of-factly, taking a drag from his own cigarette, holding up the fresh one to your eyes, “don’t start worrying, it’s just a smoke—I’m startin’ you off tame.”

“Tame?”

“Yeah, you’re a baby, sweetheart, I can’t go and rush you into things, better to start off slow,” his shoulders shrug.

You’re young and impressionable, and you think you’re gonna try something new, just this once even if it messes with your head, then it’s never again ‘cause you can’t afford to get yourself entangled in the webs of deadbeat life. Reducing your significance to the staple controversially young girlfriend—slash town slut—slash miss holiday inn. It’s just not ideal for your record.

“It’ll fuck up my lungs, though.” you try as a last rebuttal, not a hundred percent sure if you were trying to convince him or yourself.

He snorts. “That’s just a myth, cigarettes aren’t capable of shit other than putting some relief into ya,” leaning back across the couch, his legs spread and bump against the side of your knees, denim stretching and showing his crotch off more prominently. Your eyes go there like instinct for a split second, and you swear you hear him chuckle, but you don’t say and he doesn’t either, so it’s better to leave it unsaid. “drugs are the real problem if you ain’t careful, but I know a thing or two about them, so no problems there—wouldn’t let a thing happen to your pretty ass.”

“You barely know me, how do I know I can trust you?”

“C’mon, nobody wants a random girl foamed up on clean floors and fifty years in the slammer in front of ‘em.”

“I guess…” a sigh brushes through your throat, exhaling outwards, “but still, I don’t know, like, how to do this.”

“You can’t be serious—I understand cigarettes, but, Jesus Christ, a lighter?”

You nod, half embarrassed and half shameful. Twenty years old and hasn’t got even the bare minimum of experience on loosening up. Sure, whatever, you’re a prude, kept to yourself, probably better off finding sanctuary in a nunnery than in the hands of a way-too coercing older man or any social event. He thinks otherwise. You’re sweet and don’t know what the hell you’re doing; it’s easy for him to play teacher once in a while.

“Shit, poor you—eh, don’t beat yourself up about it, here, we can share this one.” he sits up, scooting closer to you and places his cigarette amidst your pressed lips, calloused fingertips brushing against the delicate, glossier pink bottom.

Once the suffocating nicotine clouds your mouth and seeps down into the chamber of your lungs, you gaze over at him to meet an expression that crosses the bridge of somewhere between a proud father and the pride of a fulfilled poacher holding his newest prey by its underbelly.

It’s terrifying, yes, although something else lingers in the sidelines—something borderline eroticized. Up from the tension, to the proximity, to your eased submission into requests; it’s utterly fascinating and crawls up your spine.

“See? You’re already doin’ just fine, watch how I do it,” Leon, precise and perfect, takes the smoke back, held in the leverage of his pointer and middle finger, billowing wisps of fog out. “try it.”

Hands quivering, you draw the cigarette back, resting in the evidently clumsy V of your fingers that are an awful attempt at mirroring his own. He cups his larger hand above yours, supporting your form and watching as you take in the smog. And, by high assumptions, you end up coughing most of it out rather than a smooth process of inhale-exhale.

“Okay, now see, you’re rushin’ yourself,” for the first time tonight, he actually touches you, splaying a hand above your breasts, and the warmth sends you into an internal hysteria, “hold the smoke in a second, then you gotta inhale through your mouth—do it gently.”

“I’m trying.” Without a single doubt, he makes it harder to concentrate when his hand is an inch away from groping your tits, and the thought drives your focus away. In spite of the compromising position, you try your best at pleasing him—after this, perhaps you’ll get a kiss or more indulgence into his enigmatic, lonely life.

Leon doesn’t care if this takes up the entire rest of his night, or the rest of tomorrow, or the day after that, he’d help till you smoked yourself away into a brand new persona; bolder, more enticing, and sure as hell not scared of anything except, well, the consequences of being under his influence. And he does up teaching you, a couple of minutes of practice and here you two ended up bumming a single smoke, shared in a trajectory of one consistent rotation.

With him, it goes way beyond cigarettes. That’s intermediate stuff, for starter’s, baby steps, whatever he called it. He spills his guts to you, shamelessly and prying open the hardened walls of his heart—he mentions being an ex-cop (that makes a lot of sense) and talks about his first girlfriend and the naivety of his twenty-something hopes and dreams. Begins sounding too familiar for your liking, and that’s when the revelation dawns on you, that you’re two respective mirrors of each other, same places and different times.

Match made somewhere that was certainly not heaven—maybe in a back-alley where all delicate filth and rancid grows and lives. Your growing love is a persisting parasite, eager to consume yet so tempting to just exterminate.

To your despair, it increases tenfold when he feeds you these assorted pills that make you feel like you’re in a constant reverie. He takes the first swallow when you show that you’re too much of a pussy to surrender to the effects first, and then you follow up close behind when he turns out fine. Leon is better this way—hazy and cloudy and… a lot more touchy than before.

“My dad used to bring me hunting when I was a kid,” His words slur in a string of incoherency, having washed the pill down with drug-store beer that’s god-who-knows how old. Older than you, wouldn’t be a surprise. “didn’t know they were making my targets into girls now, I mean, look at you, you’re all ears and fur.”

“Leon, you’re losing it,” you roll your eyes, lashes fluttering while another wave of the ecstasy laps at your flesh like a tidal wave, “it’s Halloween.”

“Yeah, so what?”

“I’m not real, it’s a costume,” a giggle slips past your lips, and one blink, two, three—you’re really gone, pass the line of sentience, leaving it up to him and whatever else defenses you had left.

“Ah, right,” Leon clicks his tongue, swinging an arm around your shoulders, hauling himself closer—this cannot mean good news to you, not when he’s this close and the bitter stench of his drink suffocates you, “you kids are so quick these days, but still, I think I might just grow to like you, real or not.”

“I think I will too—liking you and stuff.” you tell him innocent and grinning and idiotic.

“I understood you the first time,” he offers a scummy smile, fingers playing in the falling strands of your hair that bunch in curls at your shoulders. “I do like you, baby, you like me?”

When the most you can do is stare at him, fawn-faced and dumbified, nodding your head in a simple motion of up-down, a hearty chuckle exudes from his throat. He’s got you right where he wanted you. Girls were easy targets to him, hunt and prey, running in circles when he’s got the looks ‘cause it was that easy. Men like him just needed the looks and charisma, nothing else. Easy living.

“Good girl,” he pets your hair back, mindful of your ears and pleased, “listen, sweetheart, you’re one of the good ones, mousy and pretty, not very common nowadays, you got a boyfriend?”

“No.” your head whips in a shake.

Leon laughs, satisfied, thinking to himself how he got this lucky. “I thought so,” He takes your drug-induced obedience as a green light, has you right where he wants you, taking much bigger steps from first base and takes your hand over his bulge, spreading his legs wider, “c'mere and make yourself useful."

This is not how you were raised. You were raised a perfect girl, most recent graduate of your family, you wanted a career in medical, or finance, or business, or any high-paying bullshit would get you somewhere stable. Whatever. You don’t care anymore. It’s a single night out of three hundred and sixty five days, so what if you play the role of a desperate slut one time? Every girl is bound to experience it at least once, you deserve some indulgence.

In your wide-sweeping view, you’ve got front row seats to watch him reach down to his belt and unbuckle it, popping open the buttons of his dad jeans. That’s right—he was daddy to you tonight, and daddy to you when you wake up in his sheets tomorrow morning, but Leon when you pass him on the streets and offer him a friendly greeting. He’s the closest thing to fatherly love ever, plus the sex and his dick in your mouth, and hopefully in your guts when a much later time comes around.

The sheer length of it shadows most of your face—intimidating when you’re a virgin, nonetheless gets your pussy wet and throbbing like it’s got a heartbeat of it’s own. You’ve watched your fair share of porn, you know big from small, skinny to wide, has on-screen girls moaning and squealing from the get-go. They always seemed like a bit of an exaggeration to you, it’s just dick you’d tell you yourself—overconfident and way-too sure because it literally just is—but it’s your turn, caught in their same exact predicament, and now you’re starting to understand most of them.

You nudge your head forward and he splays a palm at the back of it, guiding you closer to his dick. His pornstar-worthy, albeit foul cock that he’s subjected the warm pocket of your mouth to. An arm stretches half the expanse of the couch while he leans back, your lips kissing the tip, closing in and nursing on it. Milky streaks of precum dribbling down, painting you the cutest lip combo ever, wearing an old man's spunk and showing off as if it's the most normal thing to be proud of.

"Shit," he grunts, face angled to the ceiling, "would’ve been easier to tie your ass up like my old man taught me—deers are nothing but trouble.”

"I'm into that," you speak into his cock barely audible and drowned out by the sounds he pulls from you. An ounce of self-respect would do you some good here, but it doesn’t, and you’re soaking the gusset of your lacy pair over a white man’s cock of all things. This isn’t even your fault, it’s the pill, you were taught to always blame the pill—you’re a kitten in heat who doesn’t know any better, pawing at what’s able to give you relief in the closest proximity.

“I bet you are.” He’s seen your kind time and time again, pretty girls without an ounce of perversion of them; clean, pristine, untainted. Then, a fat cock by the end of the night is all it takes for them to flip to the other side of that same coin. It’s laughable, really, and if you wanted to, you could protest and scold with a billion futile reasons as to why he’s such a jackass, but you’re too focused on getting him deeper into your throat in the meantime—so who’s actually winning here?

His point is proven to another level when his tip nudges the back of your throat, mascara running like you just got passed in perfect sequence down at the dorms, gags muffled as you take more of him, until there’s more dick than tongue making up the anatomy of your mouth. Pulling off, you surprise him and kiss your way down to his balls, making him grip the top of the couch and curse into the air.

Two hands plant on the meat of his thighs, spreading them apart wider as if he’s the one being fucked senseless, forehead knocking against his flexing abdomen while you nestle your tongue right where you want it and make a mess out of him. To you, Leon’s got a weapon on him—not a shotgun, or a hunting rifle, but the thing that’s bigger than both your hands. Can’t believe you worked yourself to swallow almost all of it when it weighs down and takes up your whole face, resting the tip on your forehead and letting the leaky tip dribble down in a silvery path. He’s making you an equal to what you’re doing to him (as if he hasn’t already).

You're downright filthy. Teaching yourself to alternate between swiping up the seam of his sack, and taking one at a time, unsure of what to do except kiss and drool and get wherever you can taste him—figured that was your top priority here, to savor the tang of sweat and natural musk on your tastebuds since you're sure as shit you can't get this anywhere else. A man like him emerges every blue moon, sticks his head out of the grave of his desolate, four-walled home, preying on pilaible young girls with empty heads and hearts by the skill of his silver tongue. You just so happened to be the latest game, fresh and compliant, and no longer superior than what you previously thought you were above.

The scent and feel of him is so entrancing, in fact, you don't even realize he's speaking to you, fingers tapping the side of your head, "I didn't kill your senses, did I? You're enjoying yourself way too much, kid."

You nod your head stiffly with a mhm, a formed fist surrounding his cock and giving it weak strokes, feeling bad for the poor thing. Usually women liked the main attraction rather than the side performances, so this was a surprise for him, sack over dick. Beggars can't be choosers.

"I can't let you have all the fun tonight, up you go," Leon grabs your shoulders and lays you back against the arm of the couch in no time, peeling the bottom layers of clothes off of you until all there's left in the confinements of your nicely trimmed push-up—oh, that's cute, matches your shorts that end up on his floors, and your panties bunched at your ankles, god, you went all out this year. He appreciates a girl with effort.

He scoots himself between your thighs, and it's your turn to be spread out to his liking, locking your feet at his hips, running one down his lower back and causing him to shiver. He looms like a threat over you. Obscure, cascading, smothering you with his presence alone. You like Leon, truly, you've grown a soft spot for him in a span of a few hours, probably been up-to-date more than any of his cut-contact relatives, because he makes you feel real.

Two pieces of a different puzzle coming together, closer and closer till he’s a single breath away—to come to think of it, if you were in the right headspace, one that wasn’t hazy and starry-eyed, you’d be kicking him off, grab the shotgun above the fireplace and blow his head off to serve him right.

But your pussy’s pulsating on her own conscience and he’s got his jeans bunched down to his ankles to the point where return was no longer a possibility you could reach out and grasp onto.

"I liked that on you—keep it on." you pout when he's halfway to shedding his second skin of camo off his broad torso.

"Why would I?" He furrows a brow, leaving his hands in the sleeves, arms stretched slightly outwards to the sides like his crucified savior, staring death into your flesh.

"I dunno... makes it realistic, this thing we've got going on." You trail a manicured nail along the print, then points to your discarded shorts. Bedroom roleplay was never Leon's forte.

"What? The older man shit? Daddy ain't had a place in your life so you came crawling to me?" A douchebag smirk sprawls his girlish mouth, emphasizing on that stupid, half-ass pornstache he had amongst a sea of prickling stubble.

Ouch. That hit too close to home.

"Coldhearted poacher takin' his pound of flesh," you grin back and bat your eyes, pupils dilated to compliment how fawn-like you appear.

"You nymphos are all the same," he tsks with a shake of his head, bracing the stance and lining his cock up to your swollen folds, giving your clit a few slaps with the tip for good measure, drawing out a gasp from you.

“It’s not my fault,” you whine, jutting your lower lip out and hooking your arms around his neck to play with the gray hairs at the base, you want him to fuck your guts till you’re shaped and wearing him on the inside. “my daddy would kill you if he saw what you’re doing to me.”

“Good thing he's not here then, he’d be giving us—me—hell and back.” Leon spits in response, steadying his hands on your hips before he breaches your entrance, blooming the soft petals of your folds and putting a pleasant aching, stretch into your walls.

“Fuck, Leon!” Legs going rigor-mortis stiff, nails etching stripes of crimson into the canvas of his pale back, digging into the tensed back muscles. “he was never ‘round in the first place, think you could be the one to give me hell?” you blink at him innocently, adding a soft daddy a minute too late.

“What are you trying to get at, little girl?” He tilts his head forward and clenches his teeth, a droplet of sweat lands between your tits, hips driving in-and-out mercilessly, tip kissing your cervix and making you see the faintest of stars in the blackest space of your vision. You couldn’t bring yourself to feel anything other than entirely him, and you wouldn’t want it either way. Honest.

“Feel my heart,” you press his hand against the soft dough of your breast, closing his fingers around it and sighing out once you discover you want more, it’s in your blood and by your nature as a girl—needs and wants are innate things that should been rightfully given into. “it’s beating for you, daddy, I need you right here.”

“Pussy’s tellin’ me she needs me here more,” Leon chuckles, reaching his free hand down and lifts the hood of your clit up, wetting the pads of his fingers and tracing circles against your swollen bud.

His pace is relentless, battering your insides enough that'll surely leave you sore when the morning came. Your head rolls back, the pleasure he puts into you mounting with the lasting effects of the stupefying drug in your system. Coherency was a lost cause, and you were surviving based on your body's instinctive demands to take what he gives to you—the breaching of your entrance repeatedly, the persistent thumbing at your clit that was seeing no end, the embarrassing, wet squelching each time he bottoms out in you. He's taking advantage of your fatherly-bond issues, transforming it into something you could boast about after he's done with you. You'd wear it on your tongue in ways of a bragging statement to your friends, and on the white ring left on the roof of your mouth that'd mortify your poor dentist when you'd come in for yearly appointments.

At this point, a public speech would fit the best for how he makes you feel. Scream it from the rooftops, bring him home to your momma, that type of shit. Couldn't even imagine how that conversation would go down.

Probably something like—I did not pay your tuition to turn up no good than a fucking hooker!—you barely know this guy, and he's too old! What kind of thing would he want with a girl half his age?—You're breaking my heart, honey, where did I go wrong in raising you?

Guilt-tripping bullshit goes into one ear and right out the other. It's not like you were a teenager or something, you're perfectly capable and responsible! If you wanted to hook up (correction: start something more than a one-night stand) with some retired pig and let him fuck you into his yellowed-stained couch, so be it. You haven't felt this alive in years. You'd totally be the controversial topic brought up during holiday season and family dinners—good girl gone slutty—but god, was it so worth it.

Stripped of your dignity, he proves that girls like you are so damn easy when you're already teetering on the edge. Minus twenty seconds from the pleasure building in your lower stomach to burst out and get his taut abdomen wet. Grand finale. Leon's lived through this exact scenario about one, four times in his lifetime, so he has an idea on what to do. Continues pressing down and rubbing your clit, leaning over you to lock lips, tongues overlapping and teeth clinking together. The show of experience is laughable when you sort-of just slobber around his mouth, trying to eat his face off and shove your tongue down his throat. He doesn't mind 'cause that's what dads are for, teaching their little girls how to do things right and he's just so happened to fill in that roll for you.

"You're a messy girl, baby," he grunts to you between kisses, trailing his hand from your tit to gently cup the side of your neck, "you gonna come?"

"Mmph, 'boutta come so hard, can I, please?" your words slur, but then again, it's hard to focus on being consistent and at-the-moment present when his dick is ravaging your walls like no other, pussy clicking with each wet thrust.

He parts from you for a brief second to take breaths and speak and your mouth feels like warm cotton, a bridge of spit connecting your lips to his. "Sure you can, just gotta learn how to kiss me back properly," he gives your neck a squeeze, fingers splaying to cup your jaw and tilt your head backwards, "I'll be there the whole way to guide you, go on, try it yourself, doll."

Hungry and wanting, you delve back into him and try to stay on a steady track, going as slow as you could and plunging your tongue in like slow motion. He returns it by promise and guides it into something quicker, drool dribbling down the sides of both of your mouths, cutting off the oxygen to your brain and replacing it with the sheer arousal that courses your veins. You hear a faint good girl as confirmation of his satisfaction when you're called off of earth to succumb to your highly-anticipated orgasm, the only thing you remembered was feeling higher, higher, higher on his lips, balls slapping against your ass while he pounds into you, and then exploding into a temporary coma.

And now you're back to consciousness, laying underneath him with our arms over your head, legs spread apart with his dick still laying between them like a pornstar, or a lifeless deer bleeding out in a lush field since that image's a lot more fitting. That's right. Your innocence is dead, and he just keeps taking more and more of what's left of it, that gun of his shooting bullets into your insides, splattering your walls white when the mere appearance of you suffices in helping him cum. You prefer him this way—eyes twitching, lips parted, strands of hair sticking to his forehead as he empties his balls into you, it's nothing short of perfect.

When there's not old black and white Westerns on his television screaming off the walls, or the accompanying sounds of him fucking into your pussy, you find the atmosphere of his abode to be quite tranquil. He leaves your side for a second to crack open the window, and you can't help but sneak a glance at his form. Naked as the day he was born, well-deserved cigarette hanging on his fingers, claw marks from his shoulders to his back, your slick shining on his abdomen in the moonlight. He's beautiful. Like, Michelangelo's Creation of Adam level of beautiful. Too gorgeous for porn unless it was the vintage kind.

When he comes back to lay down next to you, pulling you against his chest and letting you puff off his cigarette, you knew that you didn’t want to be anywhere else than here. Claiming your rightful territory by situating your head on his chest, tracing a finger down the softened-up muscles of his stomach to his pelvis, beady eyes looking to his face and admiring the proof of exertion seeping from his pores.

"You should keep me around, y'know," he feels smaller and smaller the longer you stare at him, like, uncomfortably long, lingering on the areas you marked him, pink gloss imprinted near his collarbone and teeth marks burnt into his lower lip. “I could make it worth your while.”

“Appreciate the offer, babe, but, uh—“ he taps off remnants of ash into a tray, “look, it's better if we stick to the one-time thing," contradicts himself by allowing you to cuddle up against him, knowing the benefits of skin-to-skin contact, and apparently, it applies to clingy, nifty little things like you, "you're young and smart, and look at me, I think you could put two and two together—not a very pretty sight to most people."

You scoff. "Can't I have a little fun, like, ever?" your tits compress into his side, lips kissing into his pec and getting him to reconsider, "I can handle myself, I promise."

You and your natural seduction. Sometimes he thinks about what it's like to be normal, to live a perfectly normal life, two kids and one wife of his age. Taking them out to pumpkin patches and door-to-door on this kind of night. It's the American Dream, but not exactly his dream where it was all pornstar tits and young fawn faces and daily Viagra prescription fill-ups by the month. See, that's what he lives for. It's not the societal morality Leon tries to chase, alternatively, it's the thrill. The rush of narcotics spongeing his inhibitions and hesitations, getting his dick wet and most importantly, you hanging off his arm.

He'll give in this one time (and lose himself in the process, regret tends to hit him slow and hard).

"Okay, yeah... you know what?" He adjusts the floppy antlers on your head, sliding a palm straight down his face and cussing himself out in a quiet breath, "you win this time, baby, you wanted me and you got me, happy fuckin' Halloween."

"Oh, I knew you'd let me stick around!" you smile pretty and throw your arms to cage his neck, smooching his cheek and nudging your cheek to his, practically begging to be drugged again in his eyes.

This is going to last a long while because in the end, deers aren't the most brightest of creatures. The only thing they're good for is being eye candy, prancing around, looking pretty and dumb—easy to push around—and they're even more appealing when they come to him in silhouettes of needy deprived college girls.

WASHINGTON D.C., 2004

THE TOMBS

“Come home, Lara, you promised.” Jonah spoke on the phone, “Last year, we lost a lot - but throwing yourself into your father’s work... Lara, he’s gone, and I know it’s hard, especially with having lost Roth, but just  come home and let us help you.”

Zip yells over the line, “Breaking into the Smithsonian isn’t a cure-all!”

“I can’t,” She says finally, “I... I gotta go.”

“Lara!”

For the last year, Lara Croft had busied herself where her father left off. But if it wasn’t the work, it was drinking and getting into brawls, anything to dull the guilt gnawing inside her. It’s almost killed her, but it’s also been the one thing that made her feel most alive. Her therapist would say she had control issues, and the incident on Yamatai broke something inside her.

How did a privileged schoolgirl become so good at killing? The question haunted her thoughts. Before the island, she never dared to think herself capable of such a thing; the blood on her hands was great, not even of the men she was forced to kill, but the blood of those who died for her, because of her.

Whiskey will make her forget; it usually does the trick. 

The Tombs was a restaurant and bar located in Washington, D.C., housed in a 19th-century townhouse that had been transformed into a cozy venue for both locals and tourists. As Lara stepped inside, smooth jazz emanated from the wall speakers, creating a warm and welcoming atmosphere. It reminded her of the pub where she used to work as a bouncer in London, The Nine Bells, which had a grittier vibe.

Dressed in jeans, her usual boots, and a gray hoodie layered with a biker jacket. Her jade pendant shines in the low light as she makes her way to the bar. She passes by a table of men who whisper, “Guys, get a look at her.”

There was no denying that Lara was lovely, and she was used to having a long line of admirers - she wasn’t like most girls her age, interested in dates and romance, no, her life was too chaotic for such things. She looked over and noticed that one of the men, a man with dark blond hair and cold blue eyes, was watching her every move. Lara turned back toward the bar and got herself a seat. She takes off her jacket, setting it on the back of the chair.

“What can I get for you?” The bartender, whose name tag read Dave, asks.

Lara hums, “Glass of whiskey, please, neat. Have any Jameson?”

“I do,” Dave says, “Ten.”

“Ten? For a glass of whiskey?” She asks, raising a brow, despite pulling out her wallet to grab the cash, “Alright.”

He takes the crumpled bill from her, “Thanks, my lady. Not often I meet many Brits, what brings you out this way?”

“Delightful conversations such as this,” Lara says, tapping her fingers on the bar.

Dave laughs, a new voice says next to her, “Pour me whatever she’s having, won’t you?”

She looked over, and it was that man from when she walked inside, “Put it on my tab, will you, Dave?”

The man chuckles a little, “Name’s Leon.”

He outstretched his hand, Lara shook it, “Lara.”

“Lara, pretty name,” Leon spoke, repeating her name, “Makes sense for a pretty girl.”

“Has that worked on any other woman?” Lara asks as Dave brings over their drinks, she takes a sip, “It’s cute.”

Leon chuckles, taking a sip of his whiskey, “I don’t know, is it working on you? ‘Cause I don’t think you’re like any other woman I’ve met.”

”A statement we can agree on.” She spoke as she drank herself, “So, what’s the boring small talk, what is it you do?”

”Government work.”

Lara’s interest was piqued, “Oh?  CIA, FBI, or… is it something else?” 

“Don’t know if I can tell you, exactly but I promise - not as interesting as you’re hoping,” Leon says as he finishes his drink, signaling for another, “But, it wasn’t my ideal career but it pays the bills, it’s a living, as they say. You?”

”I’m an archaeologist,” Lara says as she finishes her own, the whiskey burning her throat, “my father’s fault, naturally, took me on digs when I was a child and encouraged my strong love for adventure. My family has a whole wing at the British History Museum.”

Leon let out a low whistle. “Impressive, does it have a name?”

”The Croft wing, not as creative, museum’s idea - surely, one of my relatives would’ve been more absurd about it,” She says, “My father, Richard Croft, was well renown and I guess, it’s now my turn but luckily, it is my ideal path.”

Leon studies her for a moment, “Lara Croft… still pretty, fits you.”

She shakes her head, “You’re ridiculous.”

”And you’re gorgeous,” He spoke, “And I think I’m having better company with you than the guys back at my table.”

She looks past his shoulder at two men - one with salt-and-pepper hair, the other with curly red hair; both have boyish good looks. One more puppy-eyed than the other. She looks back at Leon, “I see, let me guess - bet I could read you like a book.”

Leon’s lips quirked into a smile, “Doubtful, Miss Croft.”

”Dark circles, under your eyes,” She takes in his appearance, he was stunning - albeit, she didn’t have to say it, the way he was sitting showed he knew as such, but then there was something else, “Your fingernails are practically chewed off, you’re anxious - your hair is long, got some split ends coming out, overdue for a trim but doubtful you have the time.”

Leon chuckles, “So I’m nervous and overdue for a trim?”

”I didn’t say I was done.”

He sits straight, “Alright, then continue reading to me, Miss Croft.”

She noticed he was wearing a tight black shirt, scars on his forearms, calluses on his hands, and knuckles bruised. His hands mirrored hers, “You’ve been fighting - training, but ditching the gloves - you have scars on your arms, like you’d been in something awful. You’re tired because you’ve been unable to sleep, that’s why you train, better than what you see when you close your eyes, how am I so far?”

He was silent, he looked away and downed the next drink in one go, “Painfully accurate, but, don’t want to lose that cool attitude I got going on. But, I went through something - got caught up in government work and yeah, sleep’s hard to do.”

”Last year,” Lara hesitated on sharing, it wasn’t easy to just talk about it - she rather shut it out and work then focus on it but there was something about Leon that resonated with her, “Last year, I had something terrible happen and people I cared about died - I sleep, and I see them and sometimes being awake is better than the guilt when I close my eyes.”

Leon studies her, “You tell me yours, I’ll tell you mine.”

”But what would the fun be in that?”

“I don’t know,” Leon says with a shrug, “Is it worth finding out?”

Lara signaled for another drink for them both, “I’d take bad flirting over talking about it, quite honestly.”

”Fair enough,” He spoke, “Let’s see… did it hurt when you fell?”

”Bold of you to assume I came from heaven.”

He chuckles, “Well, not polite to assume hell, although - you are hot as hell.”

”You’re not hideous yourself.”

Leon feigns hurt, chuckling as he takes a drink, “Damn, that’s all I get?”

”What do you want to hear, hm?” Lara asks, side eyeing him as she drinks, “You’re handsome, and definitely… different.”

”You mean it?”

”Probably, there are few men in my life,” She says, “and I’d say you’re not annoying like most I’ve met.”

His lips quirk into a smile. “Would it be a bad idea to ask you to come home with me tonight?”

“So forward.” Lara says as Dave takes the empty glasses, “Desperate, even.”

Leon shrugs his shoulders, “Just for a night, no strings. Call me desperate all you want, but you look like you don’t wanna be alone tonight, and I don’t either.”

“Only for a night.” Lara says, “Alright, lead the way.”

She pays the tab in cash before following Leon out of the bar. Maybe it was the liquor in her system that made it easy for her to so carelessly agree, but ever since last year, ever since her loneliness looms over Lara, she has missed the comfort of someone else warming her bed. It had been so long, so painfully long, so maybe just for a night, Leon would fill that need aching deep in her gut.

🏹

Leon didn’t live in some small flat on the edge of town, no, he lived in a massive empty house. Everything was neat, clean, but untouched. Telling her that he’s barely home to enjoy himself, she thinks of her family’s home - how she’d rather crash on Jonah’s couch than sleep in a single room of Croft Manor. This wasn’t home, and given how little it seemed lived in, it was just a place to sleep. Few framed pictures hung on the wall, a younger version of Leon standing with an older couple - she assumes his parents. Another picture was of a dog.

“It isn’t much,” Leon says

Lara looks around, she takes off her jacket, following her hoodie, revealing the blue tank underneath. Her jade pendant felt cold against her skin. Leon studies it, “What’s that?”

She takes the pendant between her fingers as Leon takes her hoodie and jacket, tossing them to the side, “I was little, can’t remember where - but I found it during an expedition when I was nine. It’s been more of a good luck charm, the first find I ever had.”

“Doubt it’ll be the last.” He spoke as he took the pendant between his fingers, skin brushing against skin, “It’s pretty.”

“Is there somewhere where you say some cheesy line that it’s like me?”

He chuckles, “No, I’ll stop boring you with constant praises.” Leon gets a good look at her, a thin white line as if grazed by a bullet was on her arm, “Hit with a stray bullet?”

“Might’ve been,” Lara replies, “It’s a long story.”

“You should tell me when you’re ready.” 

She raises a brow, “What makes you think we’ll see each other again after this?”

“Because...” He leans in, close enough for breaths to intertwine, her eyes flutter shut, “Call me desperate, but I’ve never met a woman quite like you, Lara.”

His lips find hers, she pushes herself closer to him, his hands on her waist as she loops her arms around his neck, her fingers threading into those dark blond strands. His tongue tracing the shape of her lower lip, demanding entry, she let him take control - just this once. 

“Up,” A simple command, and Lara obliges. She jumps up, locking her legs around his waist, his hands holding her up by her thighs as he carries her up the stairs, his lips trying to leave hers. Relishing the taste of her sweet, whiskey lips - if he wasn’t careful, he’ll get addicted to it.

Lara went for his neck, finding what made him tick, his breath quickening as she sucked a spot on the pulse point before going to the hollow of his throat. A low grumble, “Lara...”

She chuckled against his skin. Leon swore under his breath, “I’m trying to be a gentleman here.”

“I didn’t ask you to be.” She whispers against his lips, her brown eyes darkened with desire, “Now did I?”

Leon was generally a decent lover, always mindful of his partner's needs and wants. He could pick up on what Lara wanted, to test him, to see how far he could go before his composure broke. He lays her against the bottom of the stairs, hands in a flurry to rip the clothing off her, her hands trying to pull his shirt over his head. 

Awkwardly stumbling, she chuckles as she sits up for Leon to pull her tank over her head, revealing the plain white bra underneath. She shakes her head, “I know, not sexy.”

He shakes his head, “Anything you’re wearing is sexy, but I bet you look better with nothing.”

“You’re ridiculous.” She says before kissing him again, her hands shooting to the buckle of his belt - undoing it with ease before trying to get his jeans off him, Leon tosses his shirt to the side, and Lara pauses.

He was a real-life Adonis, almost too good to be true - chest carved from determination and god only knows what else. Few freckles dot across his pecs, and she takes it all in. Blessed by the sun, a few moles were scattered along his neck. His biceps, god, Lara couldn’t help but find herself just enraptured by the very man on top of her; she could ignore how her spine began to hurt from lying against the stairs. Leon was beautiful, so beautiful like a Greek tragedy, the way his blue eyes seemed so sweet and yet so full of unspoken sadness.

She saw herself reflected; she didn’t think anyone other than those with her on the island could truly see her for what she was. Leon looked at her the same, like not a single soul could see what he did, two broken survivors trying to figure out what life was anymore.

She noticed the scar on a part of his body where his shoulder and chest met; he’d been shot before. She went to touch it, he grabbed her wrist, kissing the pulse point before trying to kiss her again.

“Don’t, please,” Leon says quietly.

She lures him back down to her lips, right - no worrying or even thinking about scars, the reason for this, for tonight, to forget - to satisfy the hunger for someone else. She gasps when she feels Leon put his knee between her legs, she holds onto his shoulders as she brings herself to grind against him. Chasing after a feeling that was difficult to have when wearing jeans herself. His hand went to her left breast, teasing the nipple through the fabric. Losing herself in him, she could only think about how much her body yearned for this touch, to be caressed and explored like something so delicate when she had never once been deemed delicate. 

Her body was toughened after the island, muscles defined through her arms and shoulders - if you had looked closer, you could see thin lines from God only knows what.

Leon finished undressing the rest of her, and he took a moment to study her, a white splotch on the left side of her stomach, skin taut as if burned. He wants to ask, but he knows he won’t get an answer. He should finish carrying her upstairs to his bedroom, but patience wasn’t a virtue Leon was good at.

Lara sits up and unhooks her bra, tossing it to the side as she raises her hips for Leon to pull her underwear down her legs. He took note of the bruises, the way her knees were healing from being scraped. Her toned arms, covered in marks of cuts and scrapes, as if she’d been in a fight or an accident. Maybe it was both. Yet despite the damage that remained imprinted on her, Leon could only think of how tender the feeling of her skin was. How supple her breasts felt as he reached to take them in his hand. How striking her eyes looked as she cast a hungry stare at him, her slender fingers tracing his jaw. 

Once she was fully nude before his eyes, Leon wondered if God truly was a woman because if so, Lara was proof of such things. He was falling hard, and he couldn’t tell if just years of being alone made him melt at the first sign of interest. But Lara, god, he was enthralled by her. He dives in for a kiss before trailing down her body, making sure to savor the very taste of the salt of her skin.

Lara reached down to thread her fingers through his hair as he dragged his mouth further south, he lifted her legs up and over his broad shoulders as his breath fanned against her slick entrance. She can’t take her eyes off him, he looks up just as he flattens his tongue against her, from the bottom to her clit, she inhales sharply.

Oh, how she was doomed.

Leon loved to be the one going down, part of it was just the taste - the other, being the cause of those little noises, seeing how far he could push a girl to the edge before she breaks. With one hand, he takes his fingers and spreads her folds before diving in, devouring her like the last meal he’d ever have.

And in his line of work, that statement might very well be true. 

“Oh hell,” She let out a breathy moan as her hips buck against his face, Leon lost himself, hands sliding to under her thighs as he brought her closer to his mouth, hips raised - Lara reached back, nails scraping against the wood of the steps as he devours her, the lewd sounds echoing through the otherwise empty home.

Leon doesn’t relent, his fingers work in tandem with his sinful mouth, making Lara’s legs shake over his shoulders - determined to bring her to the edge, his eyes focused on the faces she made, her jade pendant bouncing wildly with each breath as her chest rose and fell, the way her head tipped back and eyes shut as she lost herself in the pleasure he was giving her. 

He needed to make her come at least once before he throws her over his shoulder and takes her to bed to fuck her proper. 

Her moans were so pretty, with that pretty little accent, his name had never sounded so good as coming from Lara Croft’s lips. 

Not too hard, and yet not too soft, he teases her clit as he curled two of his fingers to hit that spongy spot inside her that sent her reeling and good god - nothing would come close to the sight. He doesn’t let up; he refuses to do so. He wanted to push Lara till she broke, and he’d put her back together again just to do it again; that was the joy to it after all. And god, the taste of her, he was pussydrunk and couldn’t help himself to be. 

Sweet like candy, just how he liked. He pulls back, his chin dripping with a mixture of her release and his spit. Lara’s legs trembled; very few men she’d slept with ever knew her body quite like this. She pants, ” That's all you got?”

”Not at all,” Leon says as he licks his lips, “Fuck you’re delicious, could eat this pussy all day.”

Lara’s skin flushed, lips swollen, her breasts heaving - Leon tried to commit this to memory as he continues, “You’re gonna come for me again, then I’m taking you upstairs and fucking you properly.”

Before she could say a word, all protest died the second his tongue dived back inside her. That goddamn mouth, Lara cried out as her hips bucked against his face. His hands returned to holding her thighs up as he was dead set on making her come again and again - maybe the same tomorrow.

What was he kidding? This was a one-night deal, that’s what they agreed to.

Meanwhile, Lara was wracked with sensations that felt so unknown to her after so long. Her body tenses up once more before she screams out Leon’s name, so wound up and with a pull of Leon’s tongue, she was undone once more.  The bastard and his pretty face, sinful mouth - 

She was reduced to a puddle. Leon pulls back, letting her legs down off his shoulders as he wipes her off his mouth with the back of his hand, “You okay?”

”Yes, better than I’ve been in a long time.” She says

”Good.”

With a yelp, he lifts her over his shoulder. Lara chuckles as Leon drags her upstairs to his bedroom. 

His bed was king-size, neat, Lara could tell as he dropped her in the middle of it. Propping herself up on her elbows as Leon steps back, undoing his belt and tossing it aside before finishing undressing. She watched in anticipation as he hooked his thumbs in his boxers and pulled them down. His cock jutted out, and her eyes widened - 

There was no way it could fit, could it?

Cut, the tip a pale pink - he was thick, and her eyes trailed up to the happy trail of dark blond hair. She inhales sharply, Leon cocks his head, “Everything okay?”

”You’re beautiful,” She says without even thinking, “You remind me of Adonis, he was Aphrodite and Persephone’s lover, myth says that he was so beautiful that it inspired jealousy among the gods.”

His face flushed pink as he went to his bedside table to grab a condom, “Yeah? What happened to him?”

”Killed by a wild boar while hunting.” Lara spoke, watching as he tore the foil packet open with his teeth, rolling the condom onto his cock.

She watched in amazement as the latex rolled over. She had never seen anything quite like him before - with bated breath, he crawls over her. Anything she had to say died down her throat as he leaned down, capturing her lips with his as he went to guide himself-teasing her with just the tip, up and down, making her moan against his lips as they made out.

He pulls back, “It would take more than a boar to take me down.”

A small smile across her lips quickly turned into a parted moan as he eased himself inside her, the way she already clung to him made Leon let out a groan as he tried everything to go slow instead of ramming fully into her.

“You’re so fucking tight, Lara, shit,” Leon grunts, his eyes squeezing shut as he pauses for a second, “Fuck.”

Lara Croft was an intelligent woman who could speak multiple languages, even the dead ones, and yet - not a single word could come to mind in this moment, lost in the feeling of Leon inside her, her hands moving down his back as he tried to push himself in. Relaxing, Leon finally bottoms out, and the stretch feels heavenly.

He lifted her legs over his shoulders, kissing her calf and allowing her to have a moment to accommodate him - Leon is already imagining getting used to the sight of Lara Croft spread before him like this - he mentally slapped himself, his life had no room for something so permanent and she probably didn’t either - he’d probably wake up tomorrow to cold sheets once more.

It’s why he had to make the most of the night, because tomorrow it’ll be like it never happened, yet another woman left his bed without so much as a goodbye. 

He pulls out, leaving her empty and starving - just before she could complain, he thrusts back into her, causing a moan to slip from her lips - a slow and steady pace - single-minded determination to make her come again, maybe a third time before he allowed himself to finish. 

Lara could only lay back and take what he had to give, kisses here and there - his thumb teasing her clit with precision as her body floated on a million different sensations - sex usually felt so empty, but this felt different - he felt different. Familiarity resonated between them. She moved her legs to his waist before flipping him over on his back, allowing her to take control.

“Jesus, Lara.”

Lara chuckles as she takes her hair down, something rare. She kisses him, “He isn’t here, darling - just us.”

Leon was under the spell of Lara Croft, willing putty in her hands as she rode him in earnest. She took his hands and placed them on her hips. He sits up - his mouth finding her neck, tasting the salt of her skin - from her neck to her throat, her throat to her breasts. He rested his head there as she moved, and she wrapped her arms around him.

Strangely, the most intimate that either of them has been in a long time. 

Her fingers thread through his hair as he moaned against her skin, feeling everything in him draw up tight, his fingers dipping between their bodies to make her come for him once more. She slacks and he takes the lead, as she holds his head close to her breast, as he raises her up and down. 

In a fleeting moment, he wished that she’d stay - become more permanent, as desperate as it sounds, hardly anyone looked at him with that same expression as she did. 

Leon thought heaven didn’t exist, but saw it when Lara tightened up around him. He grunted and buried his face in her chest as the two rode out their climaxes together.

Not a word between them, heavy breathing, and settling into the silence. 

Get a hold of yourself, Lara chides herself as she stares into those pretty blue eyes that made her heart twist; her life hardly had room for much else. Much less something serious, he’d forget about her, that she was certain.

“I should...”

“Stay, Lara, please.” He begged her, leaving kisses on her chest up to her neck, “Please, just humor me.”

And she stayed. 

🏹

Lara helps herself to Leon’s shower in the early morning, muscles sore from the previous evening. Slicking her hair back under the warm water, her stomach twisted in knots. By the time he wakes, she’ll be on a plane and he’ll never see her again. She debated leaving her number, something to make this feel more than what it was. A fleeting moment, never to be repeated. 

As she steps out, she takes a look in the mirror - her skin is covered in splotches, hickies Leon left behind. She sighs as she goes to pull on her clothes, piece by piece, till she is put back together again. Quietly stepping into the bedroom, Leon is sleeping on his stomach, snoring softly. Lara walks over, brushing some fringe back to leave a kiss on his forehead. 

She scribbles out a note on his dresser -

Hopefully, we can meet again. Take care, Leon.  - Lara

Hastily writing out her number, she continued downstairs. Her phone rings. Zip, she answers, “Jonah with you?”

“No,” Zip says, he sighs, “So, what were you up to?”

Lara rolled her eyes. “We don’t have time, Zip, can you send a lift to me? I can’t miss this plane.”

“Absolutely,” He says, she heard him tapping away at his keyboards, “But fill me in, how’s DC?”

“It’s been nice, I’ve learned a lot about what I’m looking for,” Lara says, one of her hands in her pocket of her jacket. “And... since you won’t stop, I did meet someone. He’s... nice.”

“Is that whose home you’re at?” He asks through the phone, “Hmm... Leon S. Kennedy. 1977, ooh, he’s an Aquarius, and an only child. Mother was an Italian immigrant, and father was a homicide detective in New York. Graduated from the academy at twenty-one, his first assignment was the Raccoon City Police. And... interesting, lots of sealed documents, DOJ to be specific.”

“Zip, I didn’t ask for a background check!” Lara hisses, “Send the damn car, will you?”

“Oh I have, but can’t blame a guy for being curious - let’s get a look, oh goddamn, Lara, he’s gorgeous,” Zip let out a low whistle, “If I didn’t have a man already... good god, good for you! I don’t think you’ve had any romps since...”

“Zip, I don’t wanna get into my sex life at the moment.” She says, sighing, “Will you send what I need to Madrid? I’m going to stop there before I take a trek to the village. My father wrote about the amber, and how the village... lost to time, safeguarded it.”

A sleek Aston Martin DB9 pulls into view, with Zip’s technology, the vehicle was piloting itself with his guidance from his flat in South London. Zip sighs, “And you sure you won’t need backup? Maybe you get your government man to come help you.”

“He’s not my man, he’s not anything.” Lara hisses, “And don’t be prying into him, alright? We need to focus on what’s at hand, I've got to get there - see if my father’s findings come up with anything useful.”

“Plane leaves in forty-five, chartered something more private,” Zip says, “I’ll have your cache waiting when you get into Madrid, be careful, Lara.”

The last time Leon remembered feeling this alive, well… he was still living, and that was a long time ago. When lonely and undead as long as Leon has been, it can be difficult to show restraint upon first contact with anything that evokes such emotion. 

But he did, for a while. You were just too cute, he thought as he stood over your slumbering body that first night. It wasn’t something he liked to make a habit of, but a light hunting season for him meant starvation through the winter, and he didn’t have much choice but to go wandering into the nearby little village for a quick bite to eat. 

Until he found you. 

You looked like a cherub sleeping there in your plush little bed, buried beneath a quilt he could only assume you made yourself. Precious, fragile. You looked especially fragile. 

And humans are so fragile, he thought. You smelled so sweet, it made his teeth ache just standing there staring at you without acting upon his festering need to sate his appetite, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He didn’t want to scare you, or worse, lose control of himself and kill you. 

He wandered silently around your little cottage in hopes of learning more about you. It was tidy but lived in, well-kept in a way that made him think you were probably a good homemaker. Your old leather boots sat by the door, dirtied by years of garden work and general wear. There was a little handmade ceramic candle holder on your bedside table, the candle in it burned nearly down to the base, and he wondered if maybe you’d held onto it because the piece was sentimental to you. Carefully arranged bouquets of flowers were strung together and hung up above the cracked window, likely to dry them out and preserve them. 

And suddenly he realized that maybe he would like to preserve a flower for himself. 

He couldn’t allow himself to feed from anyone in your village that night. If word spread around about a vicious animal attack or some other form of brutality, it would only hinder his ability to ultimately get to you, and he couldn’t risk that. Weak and delirious and ravenously hungry as he was, Leon forced himself to bid you adieu and stalk off into the night, back to his crumbling old castle in the middle of the woods… but not before leaving you a gift. 

His gift. The gift.

Your lips parted in a dreamy sigh as you slept, rolling over onto your back. He admired your face for a moment before he couldn’t take it anymore— if he didn’t leave now, you were going to become dinner, and he couldn’t have that. Hastily, he bit down on the meat of his palm and squeezed, watching as his old crimson blood bubbled up to the surface, and then he held it up over you.

Drip. Right between your rosy, plush lips. Even in your slumber your face scrunched up at the foreign taste, your heavy arm coming up to swipe at yourself like you were just trying to get your hair out of your eyes.

And just like that, he was gone, having taken his leave through the very same open window that gave him the idea. 

He wasn’t a monster, of course. He kept an eye on you as you experienced the very same pain he felt decades ago. 

The next day, you woke up later than usual feeling quite lousy. Your whole body was sore and weighty and, reasonably enough, you chalked it up to poor form while tending your garden the day before. It was an easy mistake to make from time to time, after all. But as the day dragged on, you only felt worse, so you retired to bed right after supper that evening. 

The day after that, you woke up in the early afternoon feeling awful. Your head was screaming with a migraine and your heart was beating slow and hard in your chest. You were sweating and shaking and could barely even open your eyes because the light hurt so bad. A friend stopped in to check on you after noticing how late of a start to the day you were getting, and almost as soon as she stepped in the door, she was rushing back out to the apothecary, begging the village healer to come check on you. 

The village healer loaded you up with tricks and tinctures and anything she could think of to break your fever or at least ease your pain. Dried herbs and poppyseeds and fungus ground up in the mortar and pestle, the paste slathered under your nose, on the bottoms of your feet, steeped into tea that was too hot for you to drink. None of it worked. At a loss for advice to give, the village healer urged you to drink plenty of water and rest, and to quarantine yourself. Couldn’t risk passing whatever you had to the rest of the community. 

You woke up drenched in sweat in the middle of the night and didn’t even have time to throw your quilt aside as you doubled over the side of your bed and vomited. This continued for a few moments until you could barely breathe, tears dripping from your eyes as your face reddened with strain and you inwardly resented yourself, knowing you would have to drag your sick body out of bed to clean up the mess you’d just made. You struck a match and lit the candle at your bedside and hesitantly peered down to survey the damage, only to be met with the image of your beautiful wooden floors drenched in blood. Reaching up to wipe your mouth with the back of your hand yielded the same result. 

As you stared at your own blood in horror, Leon stared at you in adoration from the other side of the window. For a moment your bleary eyes caught on the glass and he wondered if you saw him, but if you did, you didn’t react. 

Even at a distance he could hear your heartbeat continuing to weaken. Soon enough you would be just like him, a beautiful preserved flower, and better yet, you couldn’t be harmed. You wouldn’t change, you wouldn’t grow, you wouldn’t die.

Although your village certainly thought you did. It was a dreary, overcast day when the village healer decided to stop in and check on you, only to find you completely lifeless and splattered with blood where you laid. She had to be the one to break it to your family that you had lost your battle with whatever illness plagued you. Leon watched from the shadows as your father lifted your limp, blood-soaked body from your bed and held you close, sobbing, hesitating to admit to himself that you were gone.

By the end of the afternoon, as the sun went down and the drizzling rain refused to let up, the entire village was standing over your grave, watching you get lowered into the soft, soggy ground. 

Once everyone had paid their respects, Leon watched them all retreat to share a drink in your honor, hushed whispers revealing just how unsettled everyone was by your untimely demise. You were so young, they said, so bright and healthy and undeserving of your fate. They wondered what it meant for themselves, and only Leon knew it didn’t mean anything at all. Your illness wasn’t going to spread because he had what he wanted now, and that was you. 

As soon as the final candle was blown out for the night, Leon took a shovel from your garden and began to dig, the metal piercing easily through the soaked earth until it revealed the handmade box you’d been laid to rest in. He popped the top off and looked at you, your arms still crossed delicately over your chest with a beaded rosary tucked beneath your palms, a pale flower in your hair. Your family didn’t need to know they’d be spending the rest of their lives praying over an empty coffin in the ground. 

Leon scooped you up into his arms, cleaned up after himself and set off into the woods with you clutched to his chest like a princess.

It was a few days before you finally roused. Leon had barely taken his eyes off of you the entire time you slept, and admittedly, he was a bit grateful it had taken you so long, for your own sake. He watched over you and cared for you as the last of your body heat drained out and your fangs descended behind your lips. From what he remembered, that was the most painful part of the transformation, and you were lucky to have slept through the worst of it. 

When your eyes finally shot open, he could barely contain his excitement. In one swift movement you sat up on the couch, bringing one hand up to clutch at your pounding head, the other massaging your sore jaw as your worried eyes darted around the room to drink in your surroundings. Then and only then did your gaze finally land on Leon. 

The fright and confusion on your face were evident. He knew you would have a lot of questions, and he was prepared to answer them. 

“There you are, darling,” he greeted you warmly, the first words he’d ever spoken to you. “How are you feeling?”

"W-Where am I?" You rasped, throat sore and shot from vomiting up blood the other day. Once your new condition fully set in, you would heal, but for now you were still a touch miserable. "Who are you?"

“I’m Leon,” he was gentle in introducing himself, taking your cold, shaking hand in his own so he could brush a polite kiss over your knuckles, “and this is your new home.” 

You blinked slowly at him, brows furrowed as you mulled over what he meant, and you came up short. Tears welled up in your bloodshot eyes and you hesitated for a moment before asking him a question you were afraid to know the answer to; “Am I… Did I die?” 

Leon wasn’t quite sure how to answer that at first. He imagined that question being posed much later in the conversation, so it sort of caught him off guard. He took a breath and then replied gently, “Something like that, yes.” 

“Huh?” 

“Shh, don’t worry,” he whispered, kneeling on the floor beside the couch so he could get on your level, his cold, pale fingers tracing gently over your lifeless skin. “You’re safe, your family is safe, your village is safe. I’m just here to take care of you, my beloved, to guide you in this tricky space between life and death. Do you trust me?” 

Strangely enough, you did-- or, rather, you felt compelled to. 

But that didn’t make the implications of your condition any easier on you. You were such a frightened little lamb, your cheeks hollowing and your eyes glowing like rubies and your skin tone taking on more and more of a pallid quality by the day as you refused to feed. He knew you would have some difficulty with this at first— after all, you were just far too sweet to kill anything— but he also knew you would only become weaker and more agitated if you continued to starve, and perhaps more grim, you would remain stuck in this odd limbo between death and vampirism. 

He tried everything he could think of. You wouldn’t drink animal blood, from the body or in a glass, and you certainly refused human blood in either form too. Every time he broached the topic of sating your hunger you would cower away from him and shake your head, eyes screwed shut as you continued to deny the reality of your situation. Starvation brought forth only misery, that much Leon knew, misery and longing and weakness and worse, everything he didn’t want for you. 

For two weeks you pushed back on the topic, insisting that if you couldn’t truly die, you would rather starve than take the life of another. As much as it pained him to see you this way, Leon appreciated that you could be so stubborn about your morals. He just wished it wouldn’t come at the cost of your own well-being.

He left you at the castle one night to go hunting himself. It wasn’t often he’d stumble into humans in these woods, especially during the winter, but he hoped he would get lucky for himself anyway. Leon burned a few hours stalking through the trees and all he had to show for it when he returned home was a few small animals that wouldn't last him more than two light meals, but it was better than nothing, he thought.

Then he stepped through the creaking castle doors and his nose perked up to the familiar rich scent of human blood-- thick and heady in the air, cloyingly sweet and indulgent. Intoxicated by it for the moment, it didn’t really dawn on him immediately what that meant… until he followed the scent from the foyer to the living room and found you. 

You were on your knees in front of the fireplace, hunched over the writhing body of the village healer, her eyes wide and glassy as she choked out gurgled sounds of agony and clawed weakly at you to let her go. You didn’t even seem to notice Leon as he entered the room, a concerned grimace on his face, though it was accompanied by a tangible sense of relief that you were finally feeding. 

“Sweetheart,” he said lowly, causing you to blink with confusion and look up at him through your lashes, the poor village healer’s carotid still clenched tightly between your teeth. “Easy now, you’ll make yourself sick.” 

Your brows furrowed and you bit down a little bit harder, siphoning out a few final greedy gulps from the woman before dropping her from your grasp, your eyes still trained on Leon as her weak body flopped limply to the floor. His eyes softened with empathy as he looked you over, gore dribbling down your chin and the front of your white dress, your stomach puffy like an engorged tick. Now that you weren’t feeding anymore it would seem you made the same realization he had, the fog of desire clearing in your brain to make room for the shame and discomfort. With a soft whimper, you reached for him with both arms outstretched, but otherwise didn’t move. 

Leon gave you a nod of understanding before scooping you up into his arms, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead as he carried you out of the parlor. “My poor baby,” he sighed softly, “It gets easier, I promise. I’m so proud of you.” 

He ran a hot bath for you and left you to soak for a while as he got to work cleaning up the mess you’d made. The village healer was barely clinging to what remained of her life, and while he was extremely tempted to nurse her back to health and keep her around to continue feeding on, he knew it would hurt you. He could already tell you hated yourself for victimizing her in the first place, the very same woman who’d tried so hard to save your life just weeks ago and who was responsible for ensuring the health of the entire village, which included your friends and family. 

So he mopped up the blood, bottled what he could and wrapped her wounds to the best of his ability before compelling her to forget, dumping her just at the edge of the trees outside the village so someone would find her in the morning.

When he returned again, tired and dirtied from hauling an unconscious woman through the woods on your behalf, you were still relaxing in the tub. The water was tinted pink from all the blood and you still looked a bit swollen in the middle, but the color was returning to your skin and the expression on your face was one of such complete exhaustion that he wasn’t sure if you were actually conscious at first, until your gaze fluttered up to meet his. 

Leon let out a deep, sweet sigh, sitting on the bench beside the porcelain clawfoot bath as he took your hand in his and whispered, “What am I going to do with you, huh?” 

“I-I’m sorry,” you said just as quietly, bottom lip quivering as you continued to drift back down from your blood-induced daze. “I d-didn’t want to h-hurt her…” 

“Shh, shh, I know, darling,” his other hand came forward to pet gently through your wet hair. “She’s going to be alright, I made sure of that. But this can’t happen again, okay? I’ll help you get control of your urges, I promise, but you have to listen to me.” 

You were nodding along as he spoke, clutching his hand and shivering in the hot bath. Even transformed you were still fragile. Leon wanted nothing more than to care for you like the fine china you were.

It was fun watching you learn how to walk, so to speak. You were like a baby deer, taking careful steps and looking back at him for reassurance after each one, like his guidance was all you could think to cling to. While your gingerly approach to things was incredibly endearing, he loved watching you grow to love your new abilities with an innocent sense of excitement that he hadn’t seen in a long time, not in himself or in anyone else, really. 

You’d taken to exploring the rafters and the view of things from the ceiling, leaving the candles in your room unlit all night just so you could bask in how odd and cool it felt to see so well in the dark. It scared the moonlight out of him every time, when he would scour every inch of the castle in search of you just to find you perched criss-cross on the ceiling, lost in a lengthy novel in a pitch black room. 

But he would never scold you, never tell you ‘no.’ In his mind that was a very important lesson for you to learn, one that would open you up to endless possibilities and happiness in an otherwise bleak state of consciousness. 

So, when your small voice chimed in from the parlor ceiling one night and startled him more than he’d like to admit, and you asked him a deceptively simple question– “What now?”-- he knew exactly how he wanted to respond. 

“Indulge,” he said just as simply, sitting calmly down on the chaise lounge to look up at you, hanging from the rafters by your knees. “Let me ask you this. What’s something you’ve always wanted to do?”

You took pause, humming in thought for a moment. All your life you were never much of a forward thinker because you didn't really have to be. You lived your little old life moment by moment, taking extra special care to appreciate the here and now. You had good friends, a loving family, a beautiful community, food on your plate and a warm bed to return home to every night. That didn’t leave you wanting for much.

Finally, you spoke shyly, "I guess I always wanted to fall in love."

It was so quiet, if he was still human, he wouldn’t have heard you. But he wasn’t, and he did. The corner of his lip tugged up into an endeared and somewhat amused expression, baring the sharp edge of his right canine. 

Leon adjusted his posture, sinking back into the couch to gaze up at you, trying to pretend like he wasn’t looking between your legs where your upside-down position left your skirt flipped up nearly to your waist. He cleared his throat softly and cooed, “You poor thing, you’ve never loved before?” 

Your face burned and you avoided his eyes, stretching your arms out toward the floor just to give yourself something to do. “N-No,” you began, smoothing your skirt out over your thighs just to watch it ride up again. With a short huff of breath you pulled yourself back up into a normal sitting position on the rafters, staring up at the ceiling. “I guess I just never had the chance.” 

“What, not enough fish in your little pond?” He teased, quirking an eyebrow at you. 

You laughed, appreciating the way he eased the tension, but he wasn’t exactly wrong. “I mean, yeah, the dating pool made for a better puddle.” 

“I figured as much.” 

A comfortable silence blanketed over the parlor, broken only by the gentle crackling of the fireplace. You swung your feet idly back and forth, watching the warm flame as you asked aloud, “So… What does it feel like, then?” 

“What does what feel like?” He responded, but he knew what you meant. He just wanted to hear you say it. 

“Y’know…” You kicked your frilly socked feet, “Love?” 

“Well, sweetheart, that’s quite a broad question,” Leon began, patting the space next to him in an attempt to beckon you down from the rafters, and to his delight, the gesture succeeded. You dropped gracefully to the ground and fixed your skirt before curling up beside him on the other side of the couch, your legs tucked up beneath you. You couldn’t possibly be more adorable if you tried.

As you situated yourself at his side, he continued, “There are many different kinds of love. You love your family, and you love your friends, but you don’t love your family in the same way you love your friends, and vice versa. Correct?"

He watched your expression for a moment to ensure you were following along, and surely enough, you were. Your posture was relaxed but you remained dutifully at attention, just like a good little doll should.

Leon felt a pang of pride when you nodded.

“It’s the same thing, just a different kind of love. I’m not sure I know how to describe it, really,” he said, tracing his fingertips along your knee casually. “But I could show you?” 

“Show me?” Your head tilted with that innocent curiosity he loved so much about you, and his heart melted all over again. “Show me how?” 

He said something lowly and it took you a second to register it because right after, he took your chin in his hand and drew you in for a kiss. Only after your lips collided did your brain recognize his words as, ‘Like this.’ 

With one hand cradling the back of your head and the other still tracing little shapes on your leg, Leon’s embrace felt all-consuming and overwhelmingly safe. Through it all, you really did trust him. Your fangs knocked together as he pulled you closer to deepen the kiss, making your head spin and your brows furrow in concentration. It felt incredible, unlike anything you’d ever experienced before, but the nerves kept you tense and you couldn’t help but fear you were doing a poor job. 

So you let him lead. You resigned yourself to the feeling of his cold lips on your own and his tongue exploring your waiting mouth, his broad hands keeping you pressed against him and feeling slowly up the length of your thigh. His touch made you shiver and tingle in unfamiliar but exhilarating ways and when he eventually pulled away, you were left panting for breath and wanting for more. 

He watched your face in an attempt to gauge how you were feeling, and it was evident you enjoyed it. Leon felt a rush knowing he had effectively just turned a new leaf in your training. 

You had finally learned to walk. Now it was time for you to sprint. 

Leon brushed your hair away from your shoulder, baring your neck to him. He’d waited so long for this moment, for the chance to sink his teeth into you. He wished he could have tasted you fresh, when you were still living, but he would settle for the alternative, and truthfully, it didn't even feel like settling. Especially not when your syrupy sweet blood hit his tongue and pulled a deep, guttural moan from the core of him, his pearlescent eyes rolling back in a display of momentarily mindless rapture. It was unexpectedly hot to see him react to you in such a way. No one had ever expressed such intense need for you, and you were so hung up on it that you barely noticed your thighs subtly shifting together.

But Leon was observant as ever, of course, the movement in no way making it past his keen attention-- you were too precious, too virginal for your own good. He wanted to ruin you, he wanted to tear you apart piece by piece and savor you like holy communion, to pump your undead heart with his own two hands until the end of time, his beautiful baby, his fragile little doll, his corpse bride, his darling and beloved consort.

You were both gasping for breath as he pulled away from your throat, remnants of your tart cherry blood smudged around his pallid lips. Blessed be the gift of undeath, Leon thought to himself, for it granted him the ability to feed from you without consequence-- and vice versa-- to strengthen your bond in the most intimate way imaginable time and time and time again. It still made you dizzy, of course, light and a bit tingly all over, but Leon didn't see that as a bad thing, and as it stood, you didn't seem to either. 

He was just trying to come up with a smooth way to tempt you into tasting his own blood, but found himself pleasantly surprised by your initiative. 

"Can I try?" You practically purred, your sweet voice all hushed and breathy as your dainty little hand crept up his shoulder, palm coming to rest at the leftmost side of his strong neck. 

As you caressed the pad of your thumb over the icy expanse of his skin, you couldn't help but notice the faint, scarred over marks that were dotted about, barely-there dips and craters telling a story that suggested decades of indulgence like this, decades of past lovers, and your heart inexplicably clenched in your chest. Suddenly you were overtaken with the desire to leave your own mark there, much more prominent and recent than any of those faded old others. 

Leon was quick to give you his consent, of course, and that was all it took for your mind to snap into a completely different mode of function. The highest points of your mouth were flooding with saliva and the lowest points were pooling with it, slicking your puffy lips as your tongue fell forward to drag a deep, wanton lick up the length of his cold carotid. Then, as anticipated, you helped yourself to a healthy bite of him. 

And just like that, you had discovered a new infatuation, as he knew you would. You were bonding yourselves to one another in real time, creating a connection that not even true death could break. 

You nearly went weak with how overwhelming it felt, like drinking down pure heaven, hardly even noticing you were moving for a moment as you crawled mindlessly into his lap to straddle him, grinding deep and slow. The pheromones in his sap made your head spin, bringing about the kind of spontaneous sensuality that you'd only ever felt after one too many glasses of mead, the kind that loosened your bones and tinged at your cheeks, the kind that called warmth to bloom at the pit of your stomach. 

The flavor of him was coppery and rich, but balanced, a bit dull from undeath but otherwise magnificent. That it was faint only made you want for more. 

"Easy, easy," Leon grunted quietly in your ear, reaching a hand up to card through your hair at the back of your head. "Don't drink too fast, little princess... just breathe..."

But it would seem you weren't really listening to him, and that needed to change. Thankfully, Leon knew just the way to grasp your attention. 

Letting one arm slip between your two bodies, he wedged his hand down, down, down, until it dipped beneath your skirt to close his palm over the sticky cotton of your panties. That you were already leaking through the fabric like a busted faucet was perfect. You were an absolutely perfect little untouched virgin, and thanks to him, your body would remain that way forever, ripe for his plucking.

Bringing down some pressure on your clit with the base of his palm, testing your reaction, he reveled in the way you whimpered on his throat and unlatched to finally suck in a breath, rutting to meet his attention without a second thought, so easily captivated by such slight stimulation. He couldn't wait to show you more, but he'd need to work you open first. He didn't want your first time to be painful, after all. 

Leon took you at the waist and moved to put you on your back, hovering above your spread out form on the chaise lounge and pinning you there in the most delicate way possible. Every bit of that attention to detail paid off. 

"My precious doll... my most delicate princess," he sighed reverently, stooping low to breathe you in at the neck again, laving his tongue over the bite he'd left just moments ago. "This is what true love feels like, and I wish to share it with you for eternity..." 

He let you ponder that as he continued, working you carefully out of your clothes, finding it cute how you seemed to shift and arch along with him to help him get you naked, like you just couldn't wait. In your pretty doe eyes, your undead life had just begun. 

It was a bit strange at first, feeling his finger sink into you, but it wasn't long before Leon was seeking out your soft spots and doing an excellent job of it, no less. He curled and pumped one finger carefully in you until he was sure you were comfortable, until he felt any remaining tension in your muscles melt away, and then he introduced a second. You were so wet and so absorbed by the feeling of it all that you almost didn't notice at first, but that delicious stretch was impossible to miss. 

"O-Oh," you quivered, head falling back against the plush velvet beneath you as you bucked into his hand. 

With an appreciative hum, Leon allowed himself to become a little less careful with his ministrations, watching your reactions with interest as he worked you open on his fingers, his infatuation with you growing more and more with every moan and whine, every flutter of your silky walls. 

"There you go, little one," he cooed, "you like that, don't you?"

Your response was barely more than an airy nod, but it delighted him anyway. How could it not? You were just too sweet for words, too cute to handle. You could've done or said anything in that moment and he would have adored it all the same. 

Nipping playfully at your throat, fingers still pumping dutifully in and out of your drippy cunt, his lips trailed up to your ear so he could ask in a sultry whisper, "Think you can take more?"

The next several seconds were a blur of impassioned movement, each of you weaving around one another to shed the elder vampire of his own ensemble, revealing his carved marble frame piece-by-piece. You were amazed by the strength in his shoulders, how smooth and soft his skin was from being kept away from the sun for so long, the dark blonde trail of hair that disappeared below his belt, only for its path to be revealed upon the long-awaited removal of his trousers. 

Leon's cock was painfully hard, tip flushed red and weeping with milky beads of precum as he freed himself from his confines at last. He felt the intense need to give it a few strokes with how pent up he was at this point, but he didn't see a point in wasting any time pleasuring himself when you were right there, skirt hiked up to your waist while you laid there panting and leaking your arousal all over his nice furniture. With a pout that pretty, it would be a disservice not to fuck you until you cried. 

He angled your hips with one hand and lined himself up with the other, pushing in slowly. Your expression screwed tight for a short moment as the swollen head of him caught at your hole, an opportune moment of distraction for him to sink in deeper, stretching you out until he hit the root, drawing a shocked cry from your throat that gave way to a pleasured whine just as quickly as it came. 

So he began to move, wanting to draw out that gorgeous sound for as long as you would allow him to hear it. Your cunt was so fucking tight, pulsing and squeezing around his shaft like you were made for it, made for him, delivered to him by fate so that he might just get to fuck you like this forever and ever, and in that moment, he knew he made the right choice in sharing his gift with you. For the first time in recent memory, the future felt bright. 

"L... L-Leon..." You babbled, hooking one leg over his hip for purchase just to find out it allowed him to prod that much deeper. You went boneless at the feeling, finding strength only in your ability to claw at his shoulders for dear life, the faint scent of his blood lingering in the air and making your head spin. "Feels... g-good... so good... don't stop..." 

He wouldn't dream of it. 

Fingertips printing into your thighs, he pulled your legs up to rest over his shoulders instead, driving you down into the soft couch in a firm mating press. You were nose to nose, needy lips catching and fangs clacking between filthy words and gasps for breath as you felt his presence envelope you fully. Leon was in you, on you, around you...

Leon was your home now. Leon was where you laid to rest. 

For the first time in your undead life, you felt your body licking with heat, temperature rising steadily at the pit of you and threatening to hit a fever pitch. Every inch of him lit you up from the inside. 

"Oh, my baby," he groaned, letting go of you with one hand just to swipe his silvery blonde hair away from his face so he could gaze at you like a work of art. "You're getting close, aren't you? Squeezing me so tight like that..."

"Yeah," you whined, even though you weren't fully sure what it even felt like to be close. You weren't dumb, you knew what orgasms were, you'd just never had one yourself, and as such, you had no basis for comparison. 

Leon aimed to fix that, to make damn sure you familiarized yourself with the feeling over the course of your shared eternity. 

His thrusts picked up with renewed vigor, the legs of the old chaise lounge scratching against the hardwood floors with every push forward, and he didn't even care. Everything else about life felt so worthless in comparison to you, the new center of his universe. The whole entire house could collapse and he would still be content, so long as he had you. 

And every time he remembered that he did have you, that you were here with him right now, squirming and rutting on his cock so beautifully, that he was all you had... it just drove him that much crazier, made him that much more determined to make your first time one you would never forget. He couldn't be happier to spend the entire rest of his endless life topping the last performance. 

You were losing your grip, struggling to keep your eyes open and eventually sinking your itching fangs into what you could reach of his throat just to push yourself a little higher, a little closer. The flavor alone made you purr against his skin, jaw clenching tighter, and the delicious sting of it was pushing him forward too. Now his biggest concern wasn't just making sure you came, but making sure that you came first. 

So he withheld, even as his balls drew up tight and ached to release, focusing instead on getting you there. 

"Don't be shy, princess, I've got you," Leon moaned into your ear, "let it happen... just let it happen..." 

Tears pricked at your eyes, the overabundance of stimulation rendering you down into a tearful little puddle, but it wasn't until he spoke up to encourage you that you realized you really were holding back, stalling yourself at the precipice like it was wrong to let go.

But it wasn't wrong. It was divine. It was indulgent.

Sucking back a mouthful of his blood, you unlatched from Leon's neck just to press your forehead against his own, your jaw stuck open in stilted whines and gasps for breath as that molten heat in your belly finally boiled over, and you discovered exactly what it was you were close to. 

Your spine drew up into an arch, toes curling over his shoulders as you came on his length with a cry, thighs trembling with strain. Leon had never been baptized before, but it felt like he was just now. He'd never felt so close to God as he allowed himself to finish deep inside your perfect pussy. 

You collapsed together in the afterglow, the parlor going quiet again as you both caught your breath and your bearings, a heaping pile of mess on velvet.

"Leon," you whispered, kissing some of the excess blood away from his cold skin as you innocently and earnestly admitted, "I... I think I love you." 

He cracked a fond smile at this, if only because he knew you would catch up in time. After all, you still had much to learn, and he didn't want to overwhelm you more than he already had for one evening. 

Awkward confessions being blurred out as you two were drinking in this living room. Soft shades of warm hues painting your skins, flushing out the cool tones of the night sky. His hand on yours, mouth slotting against yours as if it were natural. Normal. 

Both of you couldn't help yourselves anymore. The tension was thicker than oatmeal and ice cream cake. Soft giggles and blows into the wet caverns as you clumsily clashed teeth against teeth. Hot breaths of alcohol waft through the air. The bottles of Mike's Hard Strawberry Lemonade and a bottle of Crown Royal Whisky strewn across the coffee table. Alongside keys and stacks of mail, unopened. 

His hands travel across the bumpy surface of your body, mapping out every single dip. Being careful not to squeeze too hard or grope you in places neither of you are ready to explore with one another. If he wasn't drunk, he would've stopped at every inch and looked at you for confirmation. 

Your hands too, roamed wildly on his body. A soft gasp left you as soon as he guided you to his lower abdomen. Wanting—no—needing you to touch him. To give him the same attention he's giving you. Of course, the amount will almost never be the same. It's okay though, minds too heavy to even think rational thoughts. So who gives a fuck if he loves you more. Gives you more attention and doesn't expect the same amount back. It's been like this since day one. 

Leon has always had your back, especially during your childhood years. Both of you stuck to each other like glue. Always helping you when a guy gave you trouble or rejected you. Wished it was him that you imagined between your thighs. To be the first one to take your virginity with everything. But he thought it was too much to even ask for. So he settled with just staying best friends with you.

Of course, alcohol gave him the courage to even be doing this to you right now. But he knows better than to sleep with you instantly. Got to take things slow… to woo you over and make you yearn for him to be inside of you. To desire him pounding you with all of his might. 

You've seen his build many times, gulping as his arms got bigger than they used to be. When small veins would pop up on his forearms or his hands, it made your mouth just start pooling up. 

Or when the two of you would play fight, feeling his arms easily wrap around you and trap you against his body. One arm around your shoulders and the other around your delicate waist. 

Tossing and turning, you wearily remember last night. The kisses and heated touches you guys exchanged. Good god. You groan and flip over, reaching for Leon. 

“Leon. Wake up,” you croak out, rubbing your face with the palms of your hands. 

He grumbles, moving his legs, slowly waking up from the sound of your voice. He rolls over to his side, hands finding you and pulling you close to his bare chest. 

Your hands push up against his pecs, shaking him slightly. Giving him a few nudges with your feet, feeling his warmth soak into your skin like water. Makes you feel sleepy but you know you shouldn't fall back asleep. You have to get up and take care of your headache and relieve yourself! 

He opens his eyes slowly, a small smile creeping up on his lips. A toothy awkward smile. “Good morning beautiful,” he hums huskily. 

Doughy thighs squeezing together instinctively from the sound of his voice. Fuck. How did you even stay around him without jumping his bones? 

“Good morning,” you shyly sputter out, looking into his baby blue eyes. Fluttering your eyelashes a few times. Make sure you aren't dreaming of this whole scenario out. Daydreaming even. Maladaptive type shit. 

His thumbs gently trace your lower back, his pupils dilating into heart shaped you swear. 

You both could stare at each other for hours, if only you didn't have to piss so fucking bad. Might explode if you don't get up any time soon. Well, maybe not explode per say, but your kidney would sure appreciate it if you peed sooner than later!

Pressing a kiss to his cheek, you tap on his arms, signaling him to move them. “I gotta go pee real quick,” shuffling out of the bed in his shirt and your underwear. 

Making a quick pace, getting into the bathroom and shutting the door. Relieving yourself with a sigh. Getting up, flushing the toilet, and washing your hands before Leon rattles his knuckles on the door. 

“Are you done?”

“Yeah, hold on.” You open the door, seeing him stand there with his hip slanted, arm leaning against the door frame. Of course his lips are painted in a smug sort of smile. 

“Let's shower together baby,” he comes up, wrapping his arms around you loosely. Coaxing you into this idea with soft kisses and soft touches. Feeling you relax into his body, practically slumping against him. Cute, he thinks. 

Hearing you mumble out an “okay”, he takes the prerogative to slip his shirt off of you. You lift your arms and he tosses it to the ground. Following his actions, you slip your panties off. 

Shyly standing before him as his eyes take over you hungrily. Leon hums in appreciation, his hands slowly running up your arms, over your shoulders, and down your chest. Taking his sweet time to appreciate every single thing on your body. Every curve, pimple, dimple, and strand of hair he can see with his eyes. 

This man is in love with you. Clear as day! 

You tremble with anticipation and adrenaline, feeling goosebumps chasing after his warmth. Letting out a low moan as he cups your breasts in his gigantic hands. Well… they're bigger than your own, that's for sure. You are positive he can hear each breath you take and exhale out through your nose. 

He lets go of them after a few soft squeezes. His index and thumb encapsulate your perky nipples, tweaking them curiously.

A zip of pain mixed with slight pleasure swirls around your areolas. Almost buckling from the sight of him and feel of his fingers. “Leon…” you whimper impatiently, hands coming up to tug on his boxers with little force. 

“Shh.. I got you princess,” he gives you an idiotic grin. Slowly dipping down to press his lips against yours, teasing you with little licks of his tongue, and soft nibbles. 

Groaning when you pull him down by the neck, arms wrapped around him like he's gonna disappear soon. Meanwhile his hands push his briefs down enough for them to fall down his legs. 

Soon after he grabs your thighs, directly underneath the cuff of your ass. Picking you up with ease and moving you to the countertop, right next to the sink. His hand moves up to your waist and the other moves to the back of your head. Slowly pulling away and tilting your head back, trying not to pull too hard. 

Groaning as you whine and paw at him needily. His lips mark his way down south, stopping to attack your neck with hickeys. Feeling your hands grip at his soft light brown hair. Giving it a few tugs and he bites down slightly harder on your chest. Of course he has to give the same treatment to the other side, kissing the valley of your breasts. 

Feeling your stomach tighten up, you wonder if he actually is a virgin like you. How is he so good at making you breathless? 

His lips wrap around your nipple and suckles on it, teeth grazing bud making you gasp. Hot wet tongue swirling around it, humming as you moan and press his face further into your tit. Leon's warm hands rub against your back soothingly as his eyes flutter, looking at your reaction. 

Pulling away, a string of spit connecting himself to you. Moving to give attention to the other side. He's like making out with your tits, humming and moaning like he's getting action too. His eyes dart up to you, pupils absolutely swallowing his irises. He looks so drunk off of just kissing your chest. 

“Can I go further, baby?” Leon's hands slip down to your thighs, giving them a squeeze. 

You open them instinctively. Allowing your sensitive parts to be visible to his eyes. Watching his eyes quickly flit down and stare at it. Zoning out practically. 

“It's so pretty, “ He coos, pushing your legs wider and spreading your cunt open with his thumbs. 

You twitch from how close he is and whine at his compliment. Hands giving his hair a tug closer to your body. Leon chuckles, pressing his lips on your inner thighs, teasing you by nearing where you want him. 

Repeating the same process on your other thigh. Leaving little marks wherever his lips collide with your soft skin. “Mhmm… fuck. Smells s’good. Can't wait any longer, beautiful.” He sticks his head further between your doughy thighs, tongue sticking out. 

Making contact with your sopping wet cunt. Breath fanning your glistening folds as he just licks it like a candy. Sloppily wrapping his lips at the top, looking up at you like he wants to ask where your clit is. 

“Mmph.. Leon it's here,” you lift the hood of your clit and show him it, shyly. He hums in affirmation. 

Leon goes buck wild and sucks on it like crazy. Feeling your hips jolt towards him. His gorgeous blue eyes flutter shut, getting lost in the sauce. Your sauce. Sweet and tangy as he's trapped in the smell of you. So overwhelming in the best way possible, really. 

You can tell he's enjoying this more than you are. With the way he's moaning and groaning, so much louder than you. The vibrations add fuel to the growing fire in your stomach. You spread your legs just a bit further apart. Making room for his head. 

“Leon,” you mewl loudly. Pushing his hair back out of his eyes. “Please…” not sure what you are begging for. But he understands right away. 

His right hand slides away from your thigh, fingers teasing around your drippy hole. Slowly pushing his middle and ring finger until he's knuckles deep. Savoring the way you clench around his thick fingers. 

“So tight and warm.” He mumbles into your pussy. 

Delving back in and sucking on your clit once more. Moving his fingers in and out, not trying to make it hurt. But it's so hard to be patient and not make you cry out his name. He needs to make you feel good. After all these years of playing a cat and mouse game. 

Leon's been saving himself for you, hoping you did the same for him. Which he should know by now, since you both only really hangout with each other and mutual friends. Obviously you have your separate lives but it mostly overlaps with one another. 

You rock your hips in time with his fingers, gasping when it hits your g-spot. Tugging on his hair to get him impossibly closer to your heat. The sounds of slurping and squelching are echoing throughout his bathroom and into his bedroom. 

All this, you would've never thought would become reality. You've imagined him on top of you and whispering the naughtiest things you could think of. His hands touching everywhere on your body, his lips marking where it touches. Proudly claiming that you are his and nobody else's. Holding you extra tight when someone would flirt with you. His crystal blue eyes narrowing and a menacing aura shifting around him. 

What snaps you out of your thoughts is when he curls his fingers and his teeth graze your sensitive bud. Can't help that your hands tighten around his poor strands of hair. 

“You like that, baby?” Leon hums, watching your expressions intently. Figuring out what makes you tick and what you don't like. And you like this. 

A soft whimper rolls off of your tongue and into his ears. It's such a beautiful melody, hearing you enjoy yourself because of him. 

“C'mon princess, use your words.” He speeds up his fingers. Looking up at you like you are a god he worships day and night. A condescending tone just drips from his mouth. Acting like he can't figure it out just from the look of you. 

“Y-Yeah… mmhg,” you nod your head dumbly. Feeling your thighs start to shake and your gummy walls clenching around his digits. “like it..” 

Leon laughs softly and continues. Wanting to make you unravel before you both hop into the shower. It's the least he could do! He swirls his tongue around your clitoris a few times. 

You let out a high pitch moan, “‘M gonna cum! ‘M gonna cum…!” 

“Cum for me. Let it all out, honey.” He coos at you. His eyes are glued to your face. Watching it turn a light pink. Mouth hanging open wide. “Know you can do it for me.” 

The coil in your stomach tightens with a warm gooey liquid making its way down south. It snaps when Leon bites down just a little bit harder on your bud. 

All sorts of sounds spew out of your mouth. Whines, his name,  and breathy moans. Your upper body starts to shake, thighs closing in on his head, squeezing him. Your stomach tenses and your body wants to curl in on itself. 

Leon hums in revelation. His hand slows down to a stop and his mouth travels to your hole. Greedily licking away at your release. Needing every last drop to satisfy himself. He wishes he could store it all in a bottle and drink away at it when he misses you and your sweet cunt. Reluctantly, he pulls away, sucking at his fingers that were inside of you.

You hide your face at that, too embarrassing to watch him enjoy your taste. 

“Baby,” his hands slide up around your waist. Standing up to his full height. His head dipping down into the nook of your shoulder. His hot breath tickles your skin, in all the right ways. “Think you can walk?” 

You can feel his dick pressing up against your thigh, throbbing with need. It's hot and wet on your skin. “I don't know.” Is what you settle to say. 

Before you take another breath, he scoops you up into his arms. Your legs immediately wrap around his fit waist. He steps into the shower and sets you back on the ground, holding onto your waist snugly. Slowly turning on the knob to the right to get the water warm.

Leon pulls the shower diverter pin to switch the water flowing down to have it flow up into the showerhead. He leads you both under the water, his other hand coming up to your eyebrows. Making sure the water doesn't get into your eyes. 

Such a romantic!

Stepping closer to his body, in between his feet, you wrap your arms around him. “Do you want to do anything else?” 

“Like…what?” 

“Mm.. well, your dick keeps poking me…” 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah.” You look up at him with a smile. Sneaking your nimble hands to it. Wrapping them both around it and slowly — but very clumsily — stroking him. Watching his face change as you continue to jerk him off. It's your turn to make him feel good. Or at least you think you should give it back. 

Hearing his soft moans. Feeling his hips buck into your hand and his arm tightening around you. Leon's hand slips down to the back of your head. Dipping down to capture your lips in a kiss. His tongue prodding your lips, begging for entry. Hot breaths coming out of his nostrils against your face. 

Your mind can't handle kissing him so hungrily, and making him feel good. So, you squeeze his poor cock and in return, Leon tangles his fingers in your hair and pulls it just a bit. Stumbling a bit backwards, you let go of it. 

Leon pulls away and kisses around your face. So sweet. 

“May I have sex with you?” His eyes blink their way down your wet body. And then back up to your eyes. 

His face is flushed, his plump lips are pressed together. He just looks so divine. You want to, want to so bad. 

“Yes, please.” Nodding like a madwoman, he gives you a chaste kiss. Patting your head like a cute puppy. 

Turning you around and pressing down on your back gently, he goes between your bodies and grabs his length. Teasingly rubbing the sticky tip against your clit and down to your hole, not yet putting it in. Groaning when it slips a little bit into your hole. 

“Are you ready, baby girl?” 

“Uhuh, I'm ready Leon.” You put your hands on the shower wall as his hand grips onto your hip.

Slowly pushing his cock into you, a soft whine mixed with a moan leaves his lips. Stopping after a few inches are in your pussy. “You okay?” 

“Mhmm… you feel so big, Leon.” Pressing your hips back against him as you speak. 

Leon's hands grip harder onto your hips. Watching his dick disappear into your wetness. Your gummy walls clinging onto him like he should never leave. Seems like he enjoys being told that his manhood is big. 

“Fuck baby, you're so… tight.” He leans down, sliding the rest inside. Groaning when you flutter around him, squeezing him harder. His hips buck and he grazes your womb. 

You moan louder, trying to get used to something bigger than a tampon going in and out of you. “Please..” Wincing and involuntarily arching your back. 

Leon pulls out and pushes in, a few inches at a time. After a few minutes of gently fucking you, he decides to go just a tad rougher. His eyes narrowing at your ass, watching the way it jiggles as his pelvis makes contact with it. 

He's always thought you had a nice ass. Now, it's going to be forever ingrained in his mind, as it moves like water. Bouncing back onto him. 

“Baby, fuck,” he whines, going faster. Hearing your desperate moans and whimpers makes all his thoughts drip down to his cock. 

Leon wants to kiss you so bad. Kiss you and fondle you whilst he's pounding you. Not sure if his brain would short-circuit and ejaculate prematurely. He's too deep into you to ever want to pull out though. 

His hands slide up to your breasts, squeezing them as if they were stress balls. Lowering down so his chest is merely inches away from your back. Feeling the heat radiating off of his body. 

“You like that?” Breathing heavily into your ear like it's asmr. Snaking his arm around your neck, the other one wrapping around your waist. Needing you to be as close to him as possible. Even if it meant lightly choking you with his soft muscles. “Like it when I manhandle you? Mhmm, I know you do. Every time we wrestled, you think I couldn't hear you gasping and whining?” 

It's dizzying how easily he can maneuver you. You can't really tell if he's trying to make you break, or if he's just talking to talk. Probably the former. 

It's sort of frustrating how much he can remember and pays attention to your every little expression and noise. It's almost as if he has a small part of his brain just dedicated to you, storing everything about you there. Which really, should flatter you. Such a man wrapped around you like a vine. 

“Fuck, I do. I love it,” you claw at his forearm, arching your back. Feeling the way his fat leaky tip goes impossibly deeper, curving around your squishy muscle. Unable to help yourself when your eyes roll into the back of your head, tilting back against his chest. 

He's barely pulling out in this position and he groans. “Yeah, I'm always right, baby. I know you better than yourself,” he coos condescendingly. “Play with that pretty little clit of yours.” He can't help but laugh, trailing off into a whimper. Pressing kisses against your temple. 

It doesn't take you long to spring a leak! With all that dirty talking he keeps mumbling into your ear. His hand groping your front side insatiably. With his stamina, really, he could go at it all night like a rabbit. 

“Mmm… been dreaming of stuffing you full of my cock for a long time. Wanted to hear your pretty voice and feel you against me. Shit, this feels unreal.” Leon grunts through his teeth. Clenching his jaw tight. 

Your legs almost give in, pressing back against him hard. Letting strings of cries and unimaginable sounds out from the bottom of your lungs. Feeling numb from the waist down. Luckily, Leon holds you upright, still plapping away into your soaked cavern. 

“Good job. Good girl, sweet fucking—shit.” Your boyfriend growls, removing his arm around your neck to push your lips together. Swooping in for a spit filled kiss. His manhood is twitching against your womb. 

“Want you to cum inside,” you lick into his mouth as he moans breathily. Pressing you tighter against him once those words reach his ears. 

“Yeah? Want me to fill this pussy up with my cum? Get you pregnant and—” He can't even hold on for much longer. Just the idea of pumping you full and the possibility of getting you pregnant just makes his veins jump. 

Leon whimpers, spurting rope after rope of his load into your womb. Your pussy greedily latching onto him and milking him for what he's worth. He's still humping into you. Fantasizing about the day you both have a family, a white picket fence and a cute dog in the picture too. 

“I love you.” 

“I love you too, precious.” He hesitates to pull out, sad at the idea of his little swimmers falling out of you. 

Being the good guy he is, he cleans you both off. Massaging your hips and lower back, fearing he went a bit too hard on you. Running the soft pads of his fingers through your hair, with you resting against his chest. 

Littering your face and neck with sweet kisses. Drying you both off and placing fresh clothes on your body. Laying down in the bed, cuddling one another.

“Maybe next time, we'll do it in my bed.” He jabs your arm lightly with his elbow. Already thinking of the next time both of you will go at it like teenagers. Clumsy and desperate. 

“Yeah. Maybe next time, someone will buy condoms.” And that makes him whine, pouting down at you. 

“But baby,” he tugs you closer to his chest, “I'll take care of you and the baby.” 

“Leon.” You whack at his chest. Trying to smack some sense into him. “We can't have kids right now.* 

“Who said so?” 

“Me.”

“Well, I say we can and should.” 

“Huh. Whatever you say boss man.” 

“Don't call me that. It sounds gross.” Leon scowls playfully, feigning disgust in his voice. His blue hues twinkled softly.

“Baby,” he coos in your ear. Soft and sweet like he loves you. “open up.” Coaxing your mouth open for his thumb to slip inside.

The strange man dotes on you like a long-lost lover. Your brain is too foggy to even remember where you had met him if you did that. Tongue feels heavy in your mouth as you roll your head to the side, blinking extremely slowly, taking in the room around you.

A desk with a computer, two monitors and a gun lays on it. A couple of knives and a pack of gum too. You swear you can make out your panties and bra that went missing a few weeks ago on his desk as well. Makes you frown slightly.

He pulls his thumb out of your mouth and wipes the saliva on your lips, dragging it across your cheek. Like he's dragging his cock and tapping it all over your face. Get you all messy.

You swallow thickly, head swirling, body feeling heavy and numb all at once. Tears pricking your eyes as you lay beneath the dirty blonde in confusion.

“Who..” is all you can croak out, blinking the water down your cheeks.

“Shh baby… relax. I'm here to take care of you like you should be taken care of. Mkay?” He murmurs soft and sweet. Wiping away the tears.

Only then do you realize you're naked and he's only adorned in his boxers. How long has he been waiting for you to wake up? You don't even know what day it is or the time.

Weird as it is, you find yourself relaxing under his guidance, mimicking his steady breathing.

“Want some water, honey? Just stay here and be a good girl for me, alright?” He kisses your forehead, getting up and grabbing a water bottle from his fridge. Coming back with long, quick strides. “Here, sit up and open your mouth.” Helping you sit up against the pillows.

Slowly pouring the water into your mouth. Pulling away as soon as it fills up, watching you drink it. Repeating this step a few times before he sets it next to his bed.

“Good girl.” The man hums, patting your head like you're a dog.

“Mm… who are you?” You look up at him through your eyelashes, asking the question hesitantly.

“My name's Leon, baby. Do you not remember me?’

Shaking your head, he sighs. It's not like he expected you to remember him. The two of you met briefly at some sort of party and once the both of you were drunk, you got all handsy. Wanting him to fuck you in his car.

That was like right after he got back from his mission in Spain too. He swears Ashley didn't fully kill off the plagas in his body with the machine. It's whatever. What doesn't kill him only makes him stronger, he thinks. Unless this possessive, obsessive, need for you is something else. But then he doesn't want to end up like Major Krauser, all mutated and weird. He hopes it's something else.

“S’okay. We met a couple of times at a few parties. Got to know each other a little bit and slept with each other. And you gave me your phone number… here we are.” Maybe he's lying. Maybe he's not. You'd never know the difference as it feels like it's mostly true. Which it is. But he certainly didn't get your number through legal ways.

“Okay, Leon.” You mumble, limbs barely moving as you try to turn to your side. Wanting to rest a little bit.

“Wanna sleep, baby? Cuddle up with daddy?” He coos down at you, warm hands shifting you around and pulling the blanket over the both of you. His warm toned body is behind yours as he cradles you like a baby.

Soft kisses planted on your cheeks and one on your neck. You feel your face get red hot as you nuzzle into the pillow. “Mmh,” replying to his first question with a soft grunt.

Leon hums, “Goodnight baby girl. Sweet dreams.”

You don't even bother replying. Not like you could as you find yourself instantly asleep. Feeling his warmth behind you lulls you to your dreamscape.

Not long after you fall asleep, Leon kisses his way down your body. Maneuvering you to lay on your back. You sigh and open your legs, rolling your head to the side.

He sucks on your nipples, not biting down hard enough to wake you. Just to tease your unconscious body. Swapping between the two and massaging the other one he doesn't have his mouth on. God forgive him, for he cannot wait any longer.

Trailing a wet path down to your pussy, he moves the blankets up over you both. Making sure you're nice and warm as he feasts on you. He's not going to deprive you of your rest and warmth. Leon's not that big of an asshole.

“So pretty. Pretty fucking juicy pussy. All mine.” Kissing and nipping the skin around your vulva. Leaving light marks for him to enjoy later on.

Leon kitten licks your clit, groaning as he tastes you on his tongue. Tangy but so fucking good. Heaven. God created you for him, he's sure. Kissing all over your pussy, tonguing around your opening as he feels your body automatically flutter.

It's like she knows who owns her already. That got him smiling as he licks you open slowly and teasingly. Eyes fluttering shut as he immerses himself in the feeling and warmth of your body wrapped around his head.

He sucks on your clit, gently biting down on it. Wearing it down as he takes turns licking into you and sucking on your clit like a hard candy. If you were a flavor, he'd always buy your flavor. Make it his cologne, his soap, his detergent. So he can always be enveloped in you. And only you.

Slurping up your juices as he pulls away. Kissing each thigh tenderly, as his hips rock against the bed. Tasting you makes him harder than obsidian.

That night when he got your panties and bra after you guys fucked in his car drunkenly. He held them up to his nose and sniffed them so much, that people would've thought there were cocaine remnants in them.

But no, he was just addicted to the way you smelled and tasted. The way you cried on his tongue and begged him to just fuck you already. To stop teasing you.

Did he fuck you until you saw white? Yes, very much so. Until you squirted and made his arms bleed? Yep! He even went so far as to make you cum so much you couldn't even remember his name, just, “daddy, daddy, daddyyy!” Until you became a sobbing mess for him.

Of course, he gave you what you wanted the most though! His cum deep inside of your cunt. Multiple creampies. You truly emptied his balls. Couldn't get hard for the next couple of days. Truly washed over his libido to a much calmer state of mind.

He hovers over you, making sure to bring the blankets over his broad shoulders. Shifting his boxers down low enough to get his cock and balls free. Slowly rubbing up and down your slit with his tip. He lets out a soft groan, pushing into you and gritting his teeth to not wake you up from how loud he wants to be.

“Hail Mary, full of grace…” he begins slowly, “The Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Fuck.. Holy Mary, mother of—fucking—God, pray for us sinners now, and at the hour of our death.” Leaning his head down into the crook of your neck. Repeating it again and again in his mind, louder and louder each time. Drowning out all the white noise in his ears.

Maybe it's just tinnitus but he thinks it's the plagas trying to invade his mind once more. He justifies his actions by blaming it on a virus infection. Your pussy is his fix. Only if you were just a bit more submissive like you were when you were drunk, maybe he would think of you as somebody he should kneel to. To worship.

“Amen. Amen, God fucking damn.” Leon rocks in and out, matching the pace of your breathing. He moans into your ear, gripping the fat of your hips before moving his hands to push your legs up to your chest. Immediately putting you into a mating press.

Licking and nibbling on each part of your neck that is exposed to his eyes, he mumbles sweet praises to your sleeping body.

“Yeah, good girl. Taking this cock so well, hm? Yeah?”

“Fuck baby, pussy squeezin' me like she doesn't wanna let go of me.”

“Mmm.. shit. Wanna make you mine. My wife. I'll get to do this to you every day. All y’gotta do is just lay there and be pretty f’me princess.”

“Yeah, yeah… take it. So fucking cute seeing your expressions and feeling your body enjoy me while you're asleep. You thinking about me baby? Dreaming about me ruining you in your sleep while I do it in real life?”

You try to shift around in your sleep and furrow your eyebrows. Letting out a low whine as your eyes roll around before opening hesitantly. “Mmph.. Leon?”

“Awwh, good afternoon sleepyhead.” He coos down at you, peppering your cheeks in kisses, rubbing up and down your sides. “Did daddy's dick wake you up?”

“Yeah,” you flutter around his length, barely processing what's happening. Only feeling full of him and his warm body pressing you into the blankets. Hands clutching onto his firm biceps weakly, digging your blunt nails into his pale skin.

Leon laughs cruelly, his hips rabbiting into your squelching heat with vigor. Half moaning into your ear, his hot breath tickling you faintly. “Shit. Look at me, baby. Who owns you? Let me fucking know who owns this pussy.”

Whimpering, your toes curl as a heat wave of embarrassment rolls down your spine. “Unhh… you do.”

He clicks his tongue at you and stops his hips, fully deep inside of you. “That's not who I am, princess. Now say it again or I won't fuck you.”

“Daddy…”

“Yeah, that's me. Now, use your big girl words and tell me who owns this pussy baby.”

“Daddy owns this pussy. Daddy owns me…” you squeeze your legs against his sides. Impossibly tight around his cock, earning a groan from him. Nails were almost close enough to draw blood from his arms.

“Good girl. Such a smart cookie, yeah? All it took was daddy having to be a bit firm with his baby.” He presses his lips to yours, capturing you in a messy, feverish kiss. Teeth clashing as he starts to thrust in and out. Tongue swiping all across your mouth, letting you suck on it briefly before he pulls away.

One hand holding up his weight, the other one squeezing your lips together. Dipping down to spit into your mouth. Smirking as he hears your little noises of pleasure.

“Knew my baby would like that. So dirty.” He moves your face up and down, forcing you to nod. “Look, you're agreeing with me. Such a slut, eager for her daddy. Mhmm…”

Leon's lips are the only thing you can focus on. Besides his dick, of course. “Daddy,” you spread your fingers around his face. Like you're in awe of him, putting them into his mouth curiously. “please?”

He gently bites down, licking and sucking on your fingers playfully. Dark oceanic eyes narrowing and analyzing you. “Baby wants my fingers in her mouth?”

Bingo. You don't even have to respond, just the look of surprise in your eyes is enough for him. He presses a wet kiss to your palm and wrist. Slipping his thumb into your mouth as he speeds up his hips.

Cock jumps inside of you as you close your eyes. Sucking on it with fervor makes him swallow a whine of his own. God, you'll bring out the desperate whiny side of him someday.

He'll still dominate you through the whines and whimpers, of course. Can't let his precious baby try to top him. It'd be so cute.

Watching you fail and beg for daddy to take over. He'd let you try though, but he'd know he'll forever be in charge. Just lending you the ‘power’ for the moment.

“Mmhhf baby. Don't do that. Daddy's gonna shoot his load inside you early. We wouldn't want that. Ain't that right pumpkin?” Leon hums, pushing down on your tongue with his thumb. Enjoying the way you drool around it and bite on it like he's some sort of oral stress relieving toy. Or gum. Not that he minds being your fix to your oral issue.

You loosely have a grip on his arm, sort of not wanting him to leave your mouth. Fluttering your eyelashes up at him, he presses his forehead against yours. Lowering his body so that he can barely pull out of you.

“Sweetheart, let daddy hold himself up with his other hand. Wanna play with your cute cunt. Make you cream all over this dick.” He pry’s himself out of your mouth, replacing it with his lips on yours. As he brings his other hand down to press tight and fast circles against your clit.

Lifting up so he can watch you fall apart on him. “Good girl. Such a sweet girl, letting her daddy do whatever he wants. Hmm? Isn't that right? Yeah,” he kisses your forehead tenderly.

At this point, you're babbling out nonsense. In your mind, you are agreeing with him. Out loud, you're saying, “daddy please.” As your walls squeeze around him tight like a vice.

He doesn't want to be too much of an asshole and make you use your dumb puppy brain, but there's a part of him that needs you to beg him to let you cum. Make you call him a God.

‘Please god, let me cum, please. I'll be a good girl, I promise.’ Something along those lines will do it for him. Fill that womb up with his sticky white cum.

“Want daddy to let you cum?” Leon's gonna slowly fade into it. Have you wrapped around his little finger. Just as he is wrapped around your body like a snake does to its victim. To its food.

“Uhuh, please daddy. Wanna cum,” you mewl out shamelessly. Tears gathering up in your pretty beady eyes. Goddamn, you look gorgeous.

“C'mon puppy. Use that pretty little brain and beg daddy correctly. Daddy'll even give you a hint, baby doll. Beg for God, because aren't I the owner of you? The one who fulfills your dreams, needs, and wants? Hmm?” There's this crazy look in his eyes. Black little veins popping up in his skin, looking similarly to a dead person. But it's also fucking hot how he looks so psychotic and desperate for you. And only you.

“Daddy—God, mmmph… please let me cum. Please!” Can't help the moans escape as he smacks his fingers against your swollen, sensitive bud. Your fingernails attach themselves to his chest, dragging red welts down to his abs. Feeling them flex as he groans in pain.

“That's right bunny, that's right. Cum for me. Cream all over this fat dick,” he purrs as he spanks your clit extra hard, in time with a deeper and harder thrust.

Watching you as your eyes roll into the back of your head and your mouth going slack. Holding you still as you tremble as you thrash around, orgasm still ringing around your body hard. Seeing you like this beneath him has his own climax running up on him. But he wants to make you watch as he fucks his cum into your womb.

“Baby,” Leon shushes, pressing faint kisses around your temples. “Look at me. Watch daddy's cock go in and out of your pretty pussy. Look at how daddy's stretching you out, baby girl. There's even a little bump from daddy.” He lifts up so you can look down between the two of you comfortably.

Still pulsing around him, he pushes down on the bulge. Listening to your cute little squeals of overstimulation. “God's gonna give you a baby now. Say, thank you, God. Thank you Leon for blessing me with your seed.” He half moans half chuckles, giving your cheek a couple of soft slaps.

“T-thank you God—Leon please… bless me with your cum…!” You sort of get it right. It's not like he's a stickler for how you say things or actually, repeat them back to him. Leon likes the control. So all is well.

He chants your name, rabbiting his hips even harder now. Eyes closed and forehead against yours. Whining as he gets closer and closer.

Leon groans as he feels your pussy greedily sucking him in. His hand immediately starts to rub your swollen nerves. “Gonna make you cum again and then I'll pump you full of it.”

You cry out, kicking and scratching at him. “S’too much! Can't cum again!” Lies. All lies.

“You can take it and you will take it. C'mon puppy. Know you can do it for me,” he coaxes another one out of you. Albeit slower this time.

Syrupy goodness coats your brain as you hiccup his name, going frigid beneath him. Oh, there you have it. Sprung a leak around his cock. You can't help but scream and hold onto him tightly. Cunt practically pushing him out because of how intense this one is.

The sight of you squirting uncontrollably has his cock kicking and spurting his hot, thick semen in your insides. Slowing his movements down he moans.

It's like it's never ending. Maybe Leon was backed up for a while and is gonna get you pregnant with triplets. Feels like it with the way he keeps pumping you full.

“Good girl. Good job. So good for me, mhmm… gonna keep you plugged up. Make sure it takes, yeah?” He coos soft and sweet, whining pathetically as his dick softens. All sensitive now.

Leon sounds so good, you think. All desperate for you.

You hum, blearily watching him maneuver the two of you around. Slumping against his chest, his warm hands soothe your sides. Giving him a soft kiss on his chest in reply. Too fuzzy-headed and dumb to even form an actual response. Not like he wanted one, it was probably more of a rhetorical question.

“That's it, baby. Rest on my chest. I'll clean us up once you're ready.” Giving the apex of your head a long kiss, he wraps his muscular arms around your frail, trembling figure.

Slowly pulling you into a deep slumber. With rainbows and sunshine.

Possibly an hour or two goes by and you wake up to warm water soothing your aching muscles. A soapy sponge rubbing your front side. Leaning back into him, you relax and let him do his thing.

“So pretty baby,” he sighs, grabbing a cup and slowly pouring it over your soapy body. Being careful not to get your face wet. “Does this feel nice?”

You nod immediately, scratching your scalp for a moment. Scooting away from him, grabbing your hair and giving him a good view of your back. Silently asking him to wash it.

The soapy sponge gently runs into your skin, over your shoulders and arms. Dipping down to your lower back before carefully going around your neck. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your head once more. Washing it all off before he lets you lay there against him.

Can't help but yawn and stretch. This is going to make you fall asleep again! “Daddy. Want to go to bed.”

“Hmm.. okay. Let's get you out of here. Daddy'll put you in the cutest outfit.” He grabs the towel and wraps it around you. Drying you off before he dries himself off. “Lift your arms for me.”

You close your eyes sleepily and lift your arms, feeling him tug a loose shirt over your head. And you instinctively lift your foot, allowing him to put panties on you and pajama pants.

Opening your eyes you see that it's Hello Kitty. Biting your lip, you watch Leon get dressed. Quietly zoning out on his chest.

Leon picks you up bridal style with ease. Despite you being a little chubby, he acts like you weigh like nothing.

“Snuggle close to daddy, sweetheart.” He sets you down, pulling the covers over the both of you. Reaching down to grab a stuffed animal he had under his bed. One he bought in advance. Thinking you'd like it.

It's a cute little shark! Leon puts it next to you as he wraps his arms around you securely. “Sweet dreams baby.”

“Sweet dreams daddy.” You mumble in return, putting the shark in your arms as you snuggle into his warm chest with a huff.